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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598655">My First, My Last</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel'>RinAngel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character building, Child Abuse, Exchange Student AU, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse, Pre-Idol AU, Slow Build, Vignettes, psychological abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:28:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,576</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhong Chenle doesn't know how many chances he'll have: to achieve his dream of idol stardom, to realize his true musical potential, and to break out from under the suffocating hold that his parents have on him. Luckily, he's got his best friend and rival (but mostly best friend), determined musician Park Jisung, to help him make the most of the time that he has. They're going to be famous together, Chenle just knows it.</p><p>(Chenle also doesn't know how many chances he'll have at love, but he knows he's lucky to even get /one/, so it makes sense to grab onto it with both hands and dig his nails in tight.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Year 1, Semester 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Seoul didn’t feel any different than Shanghai - at least, the airport didn’t. Businessmen in suits, students dressed in comfy traveling clothes, mothers keeping their children close in the crowd. Voices around him spoke Mandarin, Korean, English. The crowd was the same, but Chenle walked slowly and took it all in, anyway. <em> I’m here and they’re there. The entire Yellow Sea is between me and my family. </em> The sudden euphoria was staggering. He didn’t know what to do with this new sense of freedom.</p><p>Most first-time exchange students like himself were probably nervous, missing home, missing mom and dad— but truthfully, it hadn’t occurred to Chenle yet that he <em> should </em> miss his parents. There was nothing at home to miss, because he had higher aspirations than even his parents knew: in one year, he was going to attend as many auditions as he could, open as many doors as possible for the music career he’d always dreamed of.</p><p>In elementary school, his mother had found it imperative to fill up his free time with lessons and classes - martial arts, calligraphy, piano - but only the music lessons had managed to stick. In his international school, he studied English as his teachers mandated, but it was his Korean that he was really refining, trying to better his pronunciation with every EXO song that he sang along with while he studied. His Korean was beyond proficient to go to high school in Seoul, but that wasn’t good enough— the music industry was more competitive than high school, and the music industry demanded perfection.</p><p>
  <em> And the music industry is going to keep me here. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to go back home. </em>
</p><p>The baggage claim was a nightmare as he had to wait until the conveyer was nearly empty before he could locate his suitcase, but it barely put a damper on his experience. He’d packed the bare minimum, and his mother had given him money to buy himself a whole new wardrobe in Seoul. She’d given him that tight-lipped smile of hers and handed over a bank card, as if to say, <em> See, I’m an excellent parent. I provide you with more money than you could ever need. That’s why you need to keep your mouth shut and do what I say. </em></p><p>Wheeling his suitcase behind him, he scanned the dwindling crowd, and it didn’t take long to see a lone woman holding a piece of poster paper with his name, in both Chinese and Korean characters - he waved when he spotted her, and she did the same, flashing him a big smile. She was a tall, thin woman, who he thought could be no older than forty; her black hair was wound into a severe bun, but her face was warm as she greeted him. “I’m glad you made it safely!” She spoke in accented but confident Mandarin and put a familiar hand on his arm as she led him through the crowd. “My name is Park Sooyoung. Ah, I’m so happy you’re here! You’re around my son’s age-- he studies music, too.”</p><p>“Thank you for your hospitality,” Chenle replied humbly in Korean, allowing her to take the lead as they headed out to the parking garage. “You don’t need to speak Mandarin for me. I should be working on my Korean, anyway. I’m a little nervous to have to take Korean notes in my classes!”</p><p>Sooyoung led the way to a small red car, nice enough but rusted around the tires. “You’ll do fine! I’m sure my Jisung will help you as much as he can.” She smiled kindly. “I studied in Shanghai when I was a girl. Jisung hasn’t been so lucky to go abroad, but he studies Mandarin and English in school.” She started the engine and continued, “I hope you’re okay with sharing a room. We tried to give you plenty of space, but we just moved into a smaller apartment. The good news is that it’s above our dance studio. Like I told you on the phone, you’ll be able to use the studio freely, whatever you need. Jisung will take care of all that for you. He practically lives down there, anyway— I studied ballet all my life, but I’m still not sure I’ve ever met someone who loves music the way that he does.”</p><p>“Sharing a room is no trouble,” Chenle promised. “Actually, it will be a little like having a sibling, won’t it? I’ve always wondered what that’s like.” <em> And another musician, at that. Finally. </em> He kept himself quiet and polite, but inside, he was bursting with excitement. He'd already known, from their phone correspondence, that the Park family ran a dance studio, and that Sooyoung taught ballet. Chenle instantly knew where he’d be spending all of his free time, because he had one big <em> imperfection </em> in his repertoire: if he was going to be an idol, he had to learn how to dance.</p><p>//</p><p>Once they were home, Sooyoung showed him to the bedroom that he would be sharing with Jisung: cozy and cluttered, compared to the large, minimalist bedroom he was used to, but it also gave him a warm sense of intimacy about the space. Here was somewhere he might <em> actually </em> like to spend his time, maybe socializing with Jisung instead of getting lost in his headphones and wishing he were somewhere else.</p><p>He set his things on the neatly made bed closer to the door; across the room was a messier-looking bed, clearly used, with a pile of dirty clothes spilling out from underneath and a smattering of pristine Twice posters hanging above it— this little detail made Chenle smile. There was an empty desk for him, and space cleared out in the closet, alongside a few brand new school uniforms that Sooyoung had bought for him ahead of time. He didn’t have much with him to unpack, which was a relief. The flight, short as it was, had felt like a big leap, and he welcomed the opportunity to lay on his bed for just a few minutes, close his eyes and give his racing mind a well-deserved rest.</p><p>“Chenle,” Sooyoung called brightly from the doorway, perhaps forty-five minutes later, “Jisung just got home, and dinner will be on the table in a few minutes. Why don’t you wash up and come say hello?”</p><p>“Okay,” Chenle agreed, straightening up. He had to admit, he was feeling a little anxious to meet the boy he’d be sharing a room with for the next year, and he hoped that he was nice— that would make or break the experience for him, he was sure. As he walked through the living room, he paused to examine a picture hanging on the wall that he thought must be Jisung: an adorable elementary student with a bowl cut and a toothy grin, wearing a baseball uniform and posing with a bat. <em> Cute. </em></p><p>“...need more athletic tape before next week. My ankle is still bothering me a bit.”</p><p>Chenle froze, hearing a boy’s voice from the kitchen. He’d never had trouble making friends, but this was different, because Jisung <em> needed </em> to like him.</p><p>“That’s because you refuse to rest,” his mother said with a little sigh, over the clinking of plates coming out of the cupboard. </p><p>“You never rest either! You made me this way!” The tone of his voice was warm and affectionate, clearly teasing.</p><p>“Haven’t you heard? Do as I say, not as I do.” She hummed softly, adding, “I’m going to set the table. Can you let Chenle know that it’s time to eat?”</p><p>Flushed a little at the thought of being caught eavesdropping, Chenle barely had time to move before Jisung stepped into the living room, straightening up at the sight of him and then offering a deep bow. “You must be Zhong Chenle? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Park Jisung. You probably just heard, but dinner is ready!.”</p><p>Park Jisung looked nothing like his childhood pictures, that was for sure. He’d lost the bowl cut and the baby fat, finding beneath a nice jawline and cheekbones to die for. He had eyes that sparkled and crinkled when he smiled, a mess of brown hair, and though they were nearly the same height, Jisung had the longest legs that Chenle had ever seen. He looked like he could have been a model, but Chenle opted to swallow his compliment before he could even open his mouth. “Thanks! It’s nice to meet you, too… I’m glad to meet someone my own age who’s really into music,” he added hopefully as he trailed behind Jisung. “I don’t have many friends at home who love music like I do. I feel like the odd one out.”</p><p>Sooyoung, who was carefully placing a large pan of stir-fried chicken in the middle of the table, chuckled to herself at this. “Good luck getting our Jisung to talk about anything else. It’s been music, ever since he started middle school. Before that it was baseball, and before <em> that… </em>”</p><p>“Pokemon! Pokemon still rocks,” Jisung finished confidently, taking his spot at the table and motioning for Chenle to take the chair next to him. “Do you dance, or do you play an instrument?”</p><p>Chenle felt his cheeks go pink as he sat down, taking the seat across from Jisung’s father. He’d met the man briefly on his way in, at the front desk in the dance studio. Park Jiwon was tall and stocky, but Chenle could tell instantly where Jisung had gotten his distinctive eyes and full lips.</p><p>“I actually sing,” Chenle answered shyly, doing his best not to meet anyone’s gaze and staring at his water glass instead, as it sweated a ring onto the coaster. “I, ah… I want to try my best to pass an audition and start training to become an idol. That’s part of why I’m here. I think I have a long way to go before then, though…”</p><p>“Really?” Jisung sounded incredulous, and Chenle instantly flushed, feeling defensive. A second later, Jisung grinned. “I’ve wanted to be an idol for years! That’s why I practice so much. Mom wouldn't let me audition last year, said I needed to wait for high school.”</p><p>“And only then, if you keep your grades up,” Jiwon reminded him dryly, in a way that made Chenle inwardly wince a bit. “I know you’re going to become the next SHINee, but even so, you need to finish high school.”</p><p>“Dad! SHINee isn’t a person, they’re a <em> band </em> ,” Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes and making his mother laugh. “I’m going to do fine. But I have to train <em> really </em> hard this year. Chenle, too. Maybe we can get into a good company together?”</p><p>Jisung’s father smiled, eyes crinkling on the corners; Chenle suddenly felt a bit lighter, more hopeful. Jisung had a father like the ones on TV, one who listened before he spoke, firm but fair. “You train too hard to even socialize. I haven’t seen you have a friend over since you were little and used to have birthday parties,” he commented, voice softly teasing as he added, “Chenle, I hope you and Jisung will be good friends. He needs someone.”</p><p>“I have friends!” Jisung protested through a mouthful of food. </p><p>“I never said you didn’t!”</p><p>“You might as well have!”</p><p>Chenle smiled, but it was his practiced, public smile, one he wore by muscle memory. It was a shield; nobody could tell from his expression, as he moved his food from one side of his plate to the other and hummed quietly in agreement with somebody every few minutes, that he was thinking of home. He was thinking of the expensive birthday parties that his mother would arrange, inviting all his classmates. Catered food, birthday clowns, puppet shows and performers. One year, there was a petting zoo, with goats and rams and little tamed fawns all over the yard. Another year, when the weather was too wet and cold to be outside, she’d rented out an entire bowling alley and fed all the kids as much pizza as they could eat.</p><p>Everyone was so jealous of his him. But they didn’t see the cold woman who taught him his handwriting by rapping his knuckles with a ruler when he made an improper stroke, the woman who sent him to bed hungry when his test scores were lower than her standards. And of course, they never met his father, the man who had never said a kind word to him, who spoke only to tear him down and make him feel small. He was nothing like Jiwon, who seemed to believe so earnestly that his son could become someone great.</p><p>After dinner, Jisung and Chenle cleared the table and helped with the dishes, and when they were dismissed by his mother (“Chenle is a guest! Jisung, don’t let him do your chores!”), they disappeared back to Jisung’s room. Well, <em> their </em> room. He’d been quiet all afternoon, still worried that he might say the wrong thing, but luckily Jisung had no trouble filling in the silences. While Chenle stowed away his suitcase to make space for himself in his bed, Jisung was content to keep the conversation going: “Are you nervous? About studying in Korean and everything? Not saying your Korean is bad or anything…”</p><p>“I know what you mean! Don’t worry.” Chenle had to laugh, though he felt tired. “But really, I’m not nervous. I’m ready for something new. You have <em> no </em> idea how long I fought my parents to go to an arts school.”</p><p>“My mom knew it was inevitable,” Jisung replied softly, gathering some of his dirty clothes into a neater pile, allowing for more walking space. “She’s a dance teacher. My dad handles the business side of things, but he’s a big music lover, too. He collects Beatles stuff, I’ll have to show you sometime. What about you? What are your parents like?”</p><p><em> What are my parents like? </em>Chenle was silent for half a second longer than he meant to be, then  he answered honestly, "My father is a police captain. My mother is a lawyer. They're both really busy, so I learned to do a lot for myself." Like nursing his own emotional wounds. Like making music, because his favorite songs took better care of him than his family did. </p><p>"Get ready for a change. My mom likes to care for people." </p><p>“Everyone has taken great care of me since I got here. I really can’t complain.” Chenle was used to doing everything for himself, and that had made him proud, but it felt strangely nice to have some of the burdens taken off of his shoulders.</p><p>
  <em> Nobody here knows my secrets. All I have to do is work hard. And I will— I’ll work harder than anyone else. </em>
</p><p>“You look like you’re dozing already,” Jisung teased softly, smirking. “The jet lag isn’t <em> that </em> bad from Shanghai, is it?”</p><p>“Just been a long day,” Chenle mumbled, hugging his pillow to his chest. “I’ll be okay. You’re going to show me the practice rooms tomorrow, right?”</p><p>“For sure!”</p><p>That was all he needed: a goal, something to look towards, something to look forward to. <em> Tomorrow, it all begins. </em></p><p>//</p><p>The school had practice rooms, Jisung told him, but he never used them. “You have to sign them out, and you can only sign them out for an hour at a time,” Jisung explained, shrugging. “There are a <em> lot </em> of dance majors. That’s why I just use the practice room in my mom’s studio. She always keeps one open for me-- I’ll show you where the keys are kept, so you can use it, too.”</p><p>Chenle looked back over his shoulder as he left the campus, watching his new classmates departing in droves, all wearing the same sharp blue-and-white uniform. Sure, it wasn’t SOPA (they had very politely <em> denied </em> his application), but there were a lot of kids here, a lot of talent. “There must be a lot of people our age who want to be idols,” he remarked, trying to carefully mask how daunting this was. “A lot of competition. I’ve heard it said before, but I didn’t think about it much.”</p><p>“Hey, <em> you </em> have nothing to worry about. You’re a singer,” Jisung replied confidently. “Anyone can learn choreography. If you’re really god-awful, they’ll just stick you in the back of the formation, easy.” He smirked at his own joke, before continuing on, “ <em> I </em> have a lot of competition, because I can dance but I don’t have a great voice. Singing is something you either have or you don’t. I’ll probably be a second-rate rapper in whatever group gets stuck with me.”</p><p>Chenle scoffed. Jisung hadn’t even <em> heard </em> him sing yet. “You’re better looking than me! I bet they’ll offer you a contract before they even hear you sing.”</p><p>Jisung smiled, a surprisingly gentle sort of expression, and Chenle was sure he wasn’t imagining the reddening of his cheeks. “Thanks,” he said simply, and he pointedly looked ahead. "But I think you're good looking too…" The walk wasn’t long, though it was warm out for September; Chenle was itching to change from his stiff school uniform to the practice clothes he had folded in his bag.</p><p>Chenle darted into the bathroom to change before joining Jisung in the practice room. It was just like the dance classes that he had taken back home: a mirrored room, bright lights, a shoe-scuffed hardwood floor and a stereo system in the corner. Something was already playing, faintly, while Jisung stretched— an iKON song.</p><p>“I didn’t peg you as an iKON fan.”</p><p>“I mostly listen to girl groups,” Jisung dismissed simply, lifting his arms over his head and gripping his elbows as he stretched. “But I’ve been practicing the choreo to Rhythm Ta. It’s exhausting! It’s great cardio!”</p><p>“I can’t dance at all. I have no rhythm,” Chenle lamented with a little sigh, plopping his bag down in the corner after grabbing the apple that he’d packed. Jisung hadn’t been exaggerating about his mother: she’d stuffed both of their bags with plenty of food that morning, knowing that they would practice until dinnertime. Jisung’s bag was open beside his own, and Chenle could see an apple, a banana, and a package of almonds waiting to be eaten. “You’re really going to jump right into practice? You should probably take a rest and eat something, you know. I feel like I’ve been eating non-stop since I got here. Korean food is <em> so </em> good.”</p><p>“Why should I? I’m going to eat when I get home, anyway.” Jisung responded informally, sitting on the floor next to stretch his legs. “Mom is hyper-sensitive about my meals. She’s worried I’m going to diet too hard and get an eating disorder.”</p><p>“Well, maybe she has a point! Do you want half of my apple?”</p><p>“I don't listen to my mom, why should I listen to you?” Jisung grinned again, that <em> shit-eating </em> grin that meant he thought he’d won. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, Chenle didn’t think so, anyway; Jisung, like most other kids their age, just seemed to think that he knew better than anybody else. So much <em> sass </em> behind such a baby-face.</p><p>“Hey. When’s your birthday, by the way?” Chenle asked casually, having a seat against the mirror and taking a bite of his apple anyway. “We never did figure out who’s older.”</p><p>“February 5th, 2002,” Jisung responded easily. “I didn’t think we needed to. My mom told me that I’m older than you. It’s okay! You don’t need to talk formally to me if you don’t want~”</p><p>Chenle grinned. “I wasn’t about to start, since my birthday is in 2001. November, to be exact,” he teased, and he watched Jisung’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “So I have a couple months on you, but that’s enough that you have to obey me! I’m your older brother from now on!”</p><p>“Whaaaat? I call bull,” Jisung responded bluntly, grin quickly disappearing. He took a break from his stretches, and the next song on his playlist began. <em> Rum Pum Pum Pum </em>, f(x). Excellent choice. Jisung crawled the short distance between them, wearing a little pout as he took a close look at Chenle’s face. “You look like a baby. You’re not my hyung!”</p><p>“<em> You </em> look like a baby. An <em> adorable </em> little baby,” Chenle replied adamantly, unable to keep from grinning as he reached to pinch Jisung’s cheek. “Listen to your hyung and come eat with me. Don’t worry-- I won’t make you speak formally. After all, we’re <em> friends </em>.”</p><p>Jisung pouted. He crossed his arms. Chenle half-expected him to argue or whine. But instead, he took his bag when Chenle presented it and dug out his banana. “Peel it for me,” he uttered— words <em> dripping </em> with informality. “You’re my hyung. You’re supposed to take care of me, right?”</p><p>Once again, neither of them could keep the big, stupid smiles off of their faces.</p><p>//</p><p>
  <em> “Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier, I was with my friends, shy shy shy / Sorry I can’t meet you right now, I’ll call you a little later…” </em>
</p><p>Jisung didn’t notice Chenle come into the practice room, or if he did, he didn’t say so. Dancing took all his focus; there was an intensity on his face, even doing such a poppy song, that Chenle never saw anywhere else. Every step was perfect. And if it wasn’t perfect, Jisung would stop the music and <em> make </em>it perfect. It was almost intimidating.</p><p>
  <em> “Just get it together, and then baby, cheer up~” </em>
</p><p>When the song ended, Jisung was breathing hard - Chenle doubted that he’d danced it only once, to get as proficient as he was. Still, he grinned, asking, “Is this the kind of K-pop you’re going to make?”</p><p>“Laugh it up!” Jisung chuckled himself. “But girl group dances are an essential variety show skill. You have to have a good arsenal of them that you can do. They’re actually harder than you’d think!” He brushed his sweaty bangs out of his face and stepped aside to grab his water bottle. “You still haven’t danced with me yet! Do you like Twice? They’re my favorite.”</p><p>“I practice when you’re not here,” Chenle insisted, feeling his palms start to prickle with sweat. “I practice boy group dances, though. I’m not a dancer, so I figure if I can only learn a limited amount of skills, I might as well do what I have to.” He laughed weakly, trying to play it off, even as he confessed, “I can remember the choreography, but it’s hard for me to move my body in the right way. It never looks quite right. I think I’m just too clumsy.”</p><p>“You can’t teach yourself to dance, silly! That’s why! You need someone experienced to show you what to do,” Jisung insisted, puffing up with pride at his new self-appointed job. Chenle could already sense it coming before Jisung spoke, but then, there it was: “Let me rewind back to the chorus. You know the chorus of <em> Cheer Up </em>, right? It’s really easy.”</p><p>“Uhh, kind of—”</p><p>“I’ll show you once more, and then you can try,” Jisung decided authoritatively. All at once, the music came back through the speakers, and Jisung counted them into the chorus, showing Chenle all the moves with confidence.</p><p>The dance was simple, but for Chenle that didn’t mean much of anything. His body simply wasn’t a body made to dance. When Jisung paused and rewound again, he smiled. “Ready to try? I’ll slow the music down a little for your first time. If you get lost, just keep counting and jump back in when you can.”</p><p>“O-Okay--”</p><p>
  <em> “It’s a little too early for my heart to feel the same / But hold on, I’ll show you more…” </em>
</p><p>Slowed down was better, admittedly. It was just as Chenle said; he <em> knew </em> the dance by heart (hell, who was he kidding, he <em> loved </em> Twice), but actually getting his body to follow the steps in his head was another story. <em> One-two-three-four, five-six-seven… damn. </em> Chenle stumbled, stopped, looked desperately to Jisung for guidance.</p><p>“Keep going! Confidence is key, even if you screw up!” Still, there was no hiding Jisung’s smile, and Chenle’s sweating only intensified as the music stopped. His cheeks burned, the flush spreading to his ears. Why did all idols have to dance, anyway? Maybe he could just do ballads forever, tethered to a standing mic for the entirety of his career. Yeah, that would be ideal.</p><p>“You’re not a bad dancer. You just need practice,” Jisung assured him kindly. “Like I told you, <em> anyone </em> can learn a dance. You just need to dance the shit out of it.”</p><p>The little profanity from Jisung caught Chenle by surprise, made him laugh.</p><p>“That’s right, that makes me feel better. One day I’ll catch up with your dance ability, <em> and </em> I’ll be able to sing circles around you.”</p><p>“Big deal! I’m a rapper!” Jisung countered, punching Chenle playfully in the shoulder. “Ready to try again? This time, you’re going to do at <em> least </em> fifty percent better! I promise!”</p><p>Jisung, for all his impatience and (frankly) brattiness, was an excellent teacher. Calm, encouraging, always managing to find the silver lining to Chenle’s missteps. When Chenle danced the first section of the chorus flawlessly, Jisung cheered for him, even though he completely lost himself transitioning into the next part. “That was better,” he always said confidently. Chenle wasn’t sure he had ever had a teacher like that, one who celebrated the little gains without reminding him of what was still missing. Something about it made his heart feel warm and full and strangely sentimental.</p><p>//</p><p>“My name is Zhong Chenle. Please take good care of me. My name is Zhong Chenle. Please take good care of me.”</p><p>Jisung giggled. Chenle glared.</p><p>“Don’t laugh at me. I’m really nervous! I’m worried that I’m going to forget Korean once I step into the audition room.” It was a valid concern. When Chenle got flustered, his grasp of the language was the first thing to go. Heck, he’d won first place in his elementary school talent show, and he’d forgotten his own native tongue when he stepped up to the microphone to thank the judges.</p><p>That was nothing compared to this. Cube Entertainment. <em> Cube Entertainment. </em> Chenle didn’t feel like he was ready, but there was an open audition on a Saturday and Jisung begged him to at least <em> try </em> . Chenle couldn’t help but think to himself that his parents would <em> have </em> to take him seriously if he started training there.</p><p>Sitting in the company lobby, surrounded by young hopefuls practicing their audition songs, surrounded by lit photos of B2ST and Hyuna and all the best, Chenle felt like a loser, practicing his Korean greeting for enunciation.</p><p>“I’m not laughing at you. I’m sorry. Your accent is just cute.” Jisung’s cheeks flared red, like two little round apples. “You know what? Don’t worry too much about hiding it. I think noona-fans will eat you up just as you are.”</p><p>“You’re--” Chenle felt a rush of <em> something </em>, starting in his stomach and ending at his burning red ears. “You’re being so weird right now. Anyway, I guess it’s worse to mess up singing than introducing myself, so I’m going to start warming up.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, hyung. You’re going to do great.” Jisung smiled broadly, a genuine smile that crinkled his eyes. It was rare that Jisung ever called him <em> hyung </em> - the sentiment warmed Chenle, and made him believe Jisung.</p><p>//</p><p>Both of them auditioned without any major hiccups. Chenle thought he did a pretty damn good job on his singing portion, despite nearly practicing himself hoarse the day before. He didn’t dance well, but he’d at least made the three company executives smile. They promised both boys that they would call them if they made it through to the next round of auditions.</p><p>“You know what it is?” Jisung asked in the dark of their bedroom a few weeks later, when it seemed inevitable that neither of them would be called. “I think I really do suck at singing. I need to work harder. I mean, you can’t learn to have a good voice, but you can learn to <em> sing </em>. Am I right?”</p><p>“Makes sense to me.” Usually, Jisung was out like a light as soon as they got into their beds, but he’d been antsy lately. He seemed to have trouble sleeping, just like Chenle.</p><p>“Will you teach me how to sing, hyung?”</p><p>“I don’t know how good of a teacher I am, but I can try.” Chenle smiled weakly. “If you teach me how to dance. I look like a dork when I dance.” He hugged his pillow gently. “And for the record, you don’t have a bad voice. I like it.”</p><p>“Hm. Thanks.”</p><p>It was cheesy and Jisung would never believe it, but it was true.</p><p>Disappointing as it was, Chenle was glad for the Cube audition being a flop. It was a real wake-up call for the perfection that his dream would demand. After all, if they could turn away strong, impassioned Jisung, whose body danced like it was born for it, then who would be good enough?</p><p>//</p><p>Jisung meant business when it came to dance. Chenle thought that if he learned and practiced enough choreographies, he’d be set at whatever audition came his way next. Jisung had other ideas. “If you know some dance <em> steps, </em>you can learn any dance you want.” And hopefully, neither of them said but both of them thought, he’d look a little more natural doing it.</p><p>So Jisung taught Chenle how to count dance beats, how to quick-step, how to spin without stumbling, how to use muscles he didn’t even realize existed. The most important lesson seemed to be how to loosen up; it was amazing how different they made the same step look, just because of Chenle’s tensed shoulders and stiff elbows and knees. Jisung told him that he had to think about it, but not too hard, or else it would show on his face.</p><p>“You’re getting better, though. You’re <em> definitely </em> getting better.”</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p>“You are! I don’t know why I’m helping you, I feel like I’m giving confidential secrets to my biggest rival. Just wait, next audition you’re going to kick my butt.” Jisung led the way into the small men’s locker room: he’d had his own locker, one that stood out with a bright red padlock, and Chenle had taken the space right beside him. Jisung’s apartment was just upstairs, but it was getting cold outside and neither of them wanted to take that brief step onto the sidewalk in their sweaty t-shirts and athletic shorts. So it was back to school uniforms, just for a second.</p><p>“Ha. That’s because I have <em> star power, </em>” Chenle teased back, though he was hesitant in the way that he opened his locker and grabbed his crumpled uniform. Beside him, Jisung slung his shirt to the floor without a care, his back turned to Chenle as he spritzed himself with spray-on deodorant. Like usual, Chenle slipped down the row of lockers to the separate shower area, and in relative privacy, he began to undress.</p><p>It wasn’t that he was shy; it was that there was too much to explain and he wasn’t sure what he would say if Jisung ever asked. At home, his mother had drilled lies into him - I fell, I was playing too roughly, I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to do. <em> I’m fine, really </em>. But there was no cure-all lie to erase scars, the ghosts of the welts from his father’s cane across the small of his back. Someone, someday, was going to ask him where they came from, and he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to produce a convincing answer.</p><p>Chenle blinked hard and focused on pulling his clothes on quickly. He throbbed with a pain beyond that of his workout, one that he tried to ignore.</p><p>“Chenle!” Jisung sounded mildly irritated as he called his name; he only ever called him “hyung” when he was feeling sweet or under duress. “Are you ready?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Chenle hurried back into the main locker room, stuffing his training clothes into his bag. “I’m starving! This must be why idols emphasize dieting so much. Dancing makes me want to eat everything in sight.”</p><p>“Why are you so shy? It’s not like we don’t have all the same parts,” Jisung spoke bluntly, shouldering his bag. His buttons on his top were lined up all wrong; normally, Chenle would have fixed them, but this time, he fidgeted with his hands and shrugged.</p><p>“I guess it’s a habit. I’m not used to changing with other guys.” Chenle squeezed his eyes shut for another moment, trying to contain himself. Sometimes, it was hard to deal with Jisung being so blunt. “It’s not like… it’s not <em> you </em> or anything.”</p><p>“Sometimes, it feels like you’re worried I’m going to do something to you.” Jisung didn’t look at him as he said it. He kept his eyes on his locker as he latched it closed and jiggled it for security. “As long as that’s not it.”</p><p>“No. No way. I promise.” It felt like a lie even though it wasn’t, because it wasn’t the whole truth either. Chenle fidgeted with his backpack strap and wished he had something better to say, something to lighten the mood. Finally, taking Jisung’s hand to pull him to the door, he gave up completely and changed the subject: “Feed me. I’m dying.”</p><p>“Mom said she’s picking up fried chicken for dinner! I’ll text her and ask if she’ll get double portions.” Jisung smiled, and the smile paired with a strong squeeze of their joined hands. “Maybe you’re going to finally have a growth spurt?”</p><p>“Don’t even <em> joke </em> about that. If you joke about it, my body might change its mind!”</p><p>Jisung laughed. “I’m trying to tell my body to have another one. I wanna clear 180 cm. <em> That </em> would be kick-ass.”</p><p>“Nope, not fair. Everybody gets just one.”</p><p>Even though the moment was over, Chenle thought about it for most of the evening: while he stuffed himself with a double portion of delicious fried chicken, while he skimmed his reading assignments, and of course, when Jisung stripped down to his boxers for bed and Chenle ducked out to the bathroom to put his pajamas on. Jisung looked at him when he came back, probably wanted to press, but didn’t.</p><p>It made Chenle want to tell the truth. Or at least, it made him want to tell Jisung that he could never be scared of him because he’d already seen the type of person who was worth being scared of. Still, it was like his throat was glued shut whenever he thought of the proper words; it was like his parents had taken his voice, from all the way across the sea. Maybe they couldn’t touch him now, but they’d sent him to Korea with enough hurt to tide him over.</p><p>//</p><p>
  <em> “I know what you’re going to say, but please don’t say it / Don’t know why, don’t know why.” </em>
</p><p>Honestly, there was nothing wrong with Jisung’s voice except for the fact that he had no formal voice training. He’d been in choir for years, naturally a bass— singing in four-part harmony had taught him to blend in with others, not to own the stage and shine as a soloist. But Chenle liked the huskiness of it, the light and airy falsetto that he could produce despite his voice’s low timbre.</p><p>When they’d begun, Jisung didn’t know <em> anything </em> about air flow or breath support or vowel shaping. He didn’t know if he was singing from his chest or his throat or his head. Just about the only thing he <em> did </em> have was the ability to match Chenle’s pitch, which felt like a blessing. But three weeks of hard work had made a lot of difference, more than even Chenle thought possible. <em> When Jisung wants something, he doesn’t stop until he gets it. </em> Chenle was so blown away by his thoughts that he nearly forgot to clap when Jisung finished.</p><p>“That was really good! Just make sure you’re taking really big breaths. You don’t want to run out of air in the middle of your phrase, remember?”</p><p>Jisung exhaled and took in a couple of deep breaths, flexing his shoulders to loosen up. “I didn’t realize that singing was this much like exercising. Do you really keep your muscles all tight like that through the whole entire song?!”</p><p>“Not tight,” Chenle corrected. “<em> Supported. </em> Singing is all about being in control of your breath. That’s why it’s so hard to sing and dance at the same time.” Standing up, he moved to stand behind Jisung, gently adjusting his shoulders to fix his natural slouch. “You should have better posture. Not just when you’re performing.” <em> God, I sound like my mom. Nothing’s good enough. </em>Chenle’s heart fluttered, and he forced a smile, adding on, “You’re a good singer. You’re going to kill it at this next audition.” It was with FNC Entertainment— not as prestigious as Cube, but it still counted for something.</p><p>“I really hope so. I’ve been telling everybody that this is my dream since I was eleven years old! All my friends at school, my grandparents…” Jisung caught his own reflection in the practice room mirror, his face unreadable for a moment. He turned suddenly to look at Chenle, giving him a smile. “Hey, Chenle, sing something for me.”</p><p>“What? <em> Now </em>?”</p><p>Jisung smiled a little. “You never sing in front of me except when you’re demonstrating things to teach me,” he observed mildly. “I only hear you singing through audition room doors. Or in the shower.”</p><p>Chenle’s cheeks went bright red. “You hear me sing in the shower?!”</p><p>“Sing something for me,” Jisung insisted impatiently, sitting on the practice room floor, his own practice abandoned at the prospect of a show. “How about my audition song? Show me how it’s supposed to be sung. Give me a good example.”</p><p>Chenle laughed nervously, tugging slightly at his collar. “Doesn’t the artist do a good enough job of that?” The song was infamous: “Please Don’t” by K.Will. He’d tried to remain stoic when Jisung showed him the music video; in truth, it made him think back to his father pursing his lips in disgust when he would see a male idol on TV or in the news. <em> Now I see why you like this K-pop, you little sissy. You’d fit right in over there. </em></p><p>“If you can’t sing for me, how are you going to be the next SHINee?” Jisung demanded, eyes sparkling at their favorite little in-joke. “Come on, <em> please </em>? Just the chorus.”</p><p>Chenle sighed, looking at his own reflection, standing while Jisung sat. It was true, he was still apprehensive about singing for an audience. Jisung had a point. “Give me a second,” Chenle ordered, closing his eyes. For once, Jisung shut his mouth and did as he was told.</p><p>
  <em> “I know what you’re going to say, but please don’t say it / Don’t know why, don’t know why / I want to draw out each moment, each second / But the road rushes me on.” </em>
</p><p>The room was still as he cut off the last note, and he swallowed thickly, embarrassed to look to Jisung for a reaction.</p><p>“Don’t stop, hyung.”</p><p>Chenle tried to ignore his own blush, cocking an eyebrow. Jisung sure knew how to keep him on his toes. “Oh, so <em> now </em> I’m hyung?” He cleared his throat, feeling funny, kind of nervous. “I don’t really know the words…”</p><p>“I’ll teach you!” Jisung instantly piped up. “I’ll teach you the song if you teach me how to sing it. Or, at least… sing it to me.”</p><p>Jisung’s expression was so earnest, eyes wide and soft and hopeful. Chenle just couldn’t bring himself to say no. Jisung had some special quality that Chenle couldn't name, one that would always tilt the tables in his favor between them - or maybe Chenle was just too good of a hyung for his own good.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Year 1, Semester 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>These first couple chapters seem so bare-bones to me in editing! I started this project as a short story told through vignettes - but then it evolved into something long and crazy by the end! Planned update days are Wednesdays and Sundays, and I promise the later chapters will be longer ^^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Saying goodbye to Jisung for Christmas break was curiously numb. Jisung didn’t even seem sad, which vaguely hurt Chenle’s feelings - just a quick hug at the airport, a bright smile, and a promise that they’d see each other again in two weeks. Chenle kept his eyes low as he trudged off to the security lines and the full gravity of </span>
  <em>
    <span>two weeks without Jisung</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t bring him to tears until after the plane took off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung had become a brother. And Chenle, an only child, had not realized just how badly he’d needed a brother. Even a bratty one that didn’t know how to mind his manners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle cried on the plane and had it all out of his system by the time he landed in Shanghai. He took his time gathering his luggage and even stopped to buy a coffee at the airport. He was in no hurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out in the parking garage was the sight he dreaded: his mother’s sleek black foreign car, her silhouette reapplying lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looked so calm and collected, so beautifully regal and remarkably young for a woman of nearly forty - her purposeful public image. Still, he wasn’t surprised when he circled around to the passenger door and she instantly snapped at him: “Where in the world have you been? Your flight landed almost half an hour ago. I need to go back to the office, you know. I’m not your chauffeur.” She swiveled in her seat to look at him properly and didn’t even give him time to answer before she was scolding: “You need a haircut. You look ridiculous, you look like a girl. Your father will take you tomorrow. He can spare the day off, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. Nothing had changed, not even a bit. His parents still loathed each other and somehow, they both loathed him just as much. His mother thought he was wasting his potential by dreaming of K-pop. His father was embarrassed of him, and never missed an opportunity to remind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Chenle said simply, buckling his seatbelt. His mother pulled out of her spot at once, eyes going to the road - she never drove with the radio on, just unnerving silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-- I’m studying well,” he spoke up softly, nervously. “We just had midterm voice recitals. I was first in my class. My score was nearly perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d better be studying well. We’ve spent a lot of money on you.” His mother bit the inside of her cheek, a habit Chenle knew all too well. She did it whenever someone was irritating her and it was usually a sign to go hide in his room. Here in the car, he had nowhere to go. “If you want to study music, you could have applied to schools here in Shanghai. You just like to be difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just wanted to get away from you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chenle swallowed his poisonous answer, adding instead, “I’m learning to dance. One of my friends is teaching me. I’m actually confident in my chances, Mom. I think I might actually have a shot to start training with an agency this year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you can starve yourself and work long hours and rack up a training debt for us to pay? All for a little fame? I’m telling you, you’re a fool.” She snorted. “An idealist, not a realist. You’re your father’s son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle had no response. He looked out the window and was silent for the rest of the drive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home had no memory of comfort, he didn’t race to the door to greet anybody inside. Instead, he got his suitcase from the trunk and walked back to his mother’s open window only when she said his name. “Dinner will be at eight,” she said simply, making no move to get out of the car. “I’m going back to the office. Your father will be home soon. Don’t antagonize him, please. I don’t want to listen to him start bitching the minute I get home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was all. No </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> No </span>
  <em>
    <span>I missed you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m glad you’re home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Chenle wasn’t surprised, but it still stung. It was a sharp contrast to what he’d become accustomed to in Korea— Jisung’s mother always welcomed him home with hot tea and asked him about his day, when he wasn’t even her kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house was beautiful and immaculate as always, but there were ghosts in every corner. There was the desk in the parlor where he’d often done homework, with his mother watching him like a security camera. The dining room, from which he had often been exiled as punishment for poor grades; he was very lucky that the woman who cooked for his family had a heart, and would sneak him rice balls stuffed with meat or sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. He always tried to do nice things for her, to brighten her day— he would have hated to have his mother as an employer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going upstairs, Chenle passed the bathroom, the sliding glass doors to the balcony, and the entry to his father’s home office. The door was closed, but the faint stink of cigars leaked out into the hallway and made his heart pound with nerves. He’d only been in that room when he was in trouble, and he could still remember the cold pinpricks of fear going up his spine as he eyed the thin wooden cane in his father’s hands. He squeezed his hands tight into fists, trying to ignore the sudden itching and stinging on his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching his room and closing the door finally seemed to turn off the parade of memories; he dropped his suitcase by the door and all but collapsed onto his familiar bed. He felt like he’d flown all around the world, not just from Seoul to Shanghai.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second later, as an afterthought, he pulled out his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[2:58 PM] Chenle: made it<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:59 PM] Chenle: miss you already<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[3:01 PM] Jisung: only two weeks! consider it a break from training :)<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[3:02 PM] Chenle: idk what you’re talking about. i’m going to train every day and show you up when I get back<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[3:02 PM] Jisung: yeah yeah, cool story. hey! i’m practicing a new song<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[3:03 PM] Jisung: ♪♫anything you can do, i can do better, i can do anything better than you♫♪<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
  <span>[3:03 PM] Chenle: FIGHTING WORDS</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t mean to lose his grip, but Chenle suddenly realized that he had started crying again. Truly, in that moment, he didn’t care about all the training he was going to miss</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> All he wanted was another shot of that intoxicating freedom that Jisung had shown him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christmas break was horrible— for all the reasons that Chenle had expected, plus about a hundred other ones that he hadn’t even thought about. He missed training in the practice rooms; despite his promise to keep up with his dancing, he found it hard to find the motivation to practice in his bedroom. He missed getting home and sitting around the tiny kitchen table with Jisung’s family, eating and laughing and saying things that actually mattered to the people there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his last day in Shanghai, his father informed him that he needed to begin applying to Chinese high schools so that he could transfer in his second year. “It’s a waste of time to keep shipping you over to Korea, where you’re probably too distracted with your K-pop nonsense to get a proper education. If you want to be a singer, be a singer in China. People are going to start thinking I raised an unpatriotic son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what if I make it into a company this year?” Chenle asked, struggling to keep his voice even and his hands from shaking. His father had made him cry enough times. He was sixteen years old, and he wouldn’t let the man see him cry anymore. “You’re just going to have me quit when I’m so close to achieving something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a pretty big ‘what if’,” his father replied, lips twitching into a malicious smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle missed having someone to tell him that he was doing a good job. He missed the handmade lunches that Sooyoung packed them every day, the sour bite of homemade kimchi. He missed the mumbles of Jisung’s sleeptalking that he sometimes woke to in the middle of the night. Little things, but important things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his plane touched down in Seoul the next day, Chenle was once again hit with that sense of unspeakable relief, but this time, he felt an underlying hum of urgency. Going home had been a bitter reminder that Korea was only a temporary escape. He had to work harder. There was no “if”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Chenle hailed a cab to take him to Jisung’s house. He was sort of surprised, how normal it felt to fall back into speaking Korean, as though it were his mother tongue. He even made some small talk with the cab driver, but when the roads began to look familiar, he was silenced by the butterflies in his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aroma of homemade food greeted Chenle at the door, and his stomach spoke up with a loud growl before he could even speak. Sooyoung, diligently stirring the pot of soup on the stove, teased him: “My other son is finally home! You know how hard it’s been to go back to cooking for three? I hope you brought your appetite.” She turned to get her first look at Chenle, and her smile suddenly faltered. “Oh, my…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung!” Jisung’s cry was like a shot of mercy and Chenle was grateful to be swept up into his best friend’s arms, gladder than he’d ever been. It was awkward, but strangely comforting, to hide his face in Jisung’s hair for a moment and breathe him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” Chenle whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Jisung replied brightly, pulling back to get a proper look at him. He blinked hard in bewilderment, as though his eyes were malfunctioning. “Hyung, what happened to your face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle tenderly touched his own cheek, swollen and purple. It hurt, but he’d never admit it. “I was playing basketball with some friends back home, and I took one to the face. I’m lucky I didn’t get hit right in the nose! I’m such a klutz!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No kidding. I was going to guess that you danced into a wall again,” Jisung teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a mirrored wall! I got confused!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung had been easily redirected, but when Chenle’s eyes caught Sooyoung’s again, he was unnerved by her deep frown. “Hm. You should ice it after dinner. It looks sore.” Chenle didn’t like the look that she gave him— it made him feel guilty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired. Why does sitting on a plane make you so sleepy?” Chenle mustered a yawn, letting the subject drop easily, as though it were nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner won’t be ready for another hour. Why don’t you go rest?” Sooyoung finally managed a smile, or at least a half-smile, probably for his benefit. “Jisung, help him with his bags, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s room was the same minor catastrophe that Chenle had grown so comfortable with, except for one major change - usually Chenle’s bed was neatly made, while Jisung’s was a messy nest of blankets, but suddenly it was the other way around. It took a second for Chenle to register, and he let out a laugh of disbelief. “You’ve been sleeping in my bed! I guess you really did miss me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung, curiously, didn’t have a smart-ass retort this time. He only shrugged, face unreadable. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t practice much while you were gone, either. Nothing is as fun without you here.” Without waiting for an invitation, he got himself comfortable back in Chenle’s now-messy bed, leaving plenty of room for Chenle to join him. “Next year, you should stay here for Christmas. Besides, you might have a secret girlfriend by then. She’ll want you to take her on a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Next year.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chenle tried not to think about it. All he could say for certain was, “I’m not going to have a secret girlfriend. Trainees aren’t allowed to date. And with any luck, we’ll both be training with SM Entertainment by then.” He squeezed into the space that Jisung left him, burying his face for a moment in pillows that smelled like home to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you won’t be able to go home, anyway, then! We’ll spend next Christmas in the practice room together. And you can treat me to hot chocolate, since you’re my hyung. That will be our date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being weird! It’s almost like you only want me here so you can date me!” Chenle teased, managing a smile. This was way too heavy. He had to make Jisung blush, just to make himself feel better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope! I want you here to debut with me and be my hyung forever and take care of me so that I never have to grow up,” Jisung replied cheekily, and he punctuated his declaration with a kiss to Chenle’s cheek that turned the tables and made </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> blush. He protested half-heartedly and elbowed Jisung away and told him that he was gross, but the truth was, that little reminder that he was back to being loved anchored him down and put his soul at peace again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung turned sixteen without much fanfare, which Chenle thought was sad, until he realized that it was by Jisung’s own choice. “A birthday party? What friends am I supposed to invite?” he asked casually, seeming unbothered. “I have a bunch of half-friends at school, and a couple people that I haven’t seen since middle school. The only people I really want to see today are you and my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And knowing my Jisung, he doesn’t want to miss any practice time, even though it’s Saturday,” Sooyoung spoke up affectionately. Jisung hadn’t wanted a party, but she was making seaweed soup anyway; Chenle thought it was a funny sort of birthday tradition, but the smell of simmering beef broth and garlic was already making his mouth water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right, because YG is having auditions this coming week!” Jisung smiled. “And they’re during school time, so Mom--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> skipping school for a YG audition. Absolutely not,” Sooyoung replied, kindly but firmly, patting her son’s head on her way by his place at the table. “So you can just let that idea go. Oh—” Hearing the sound of footsteps outside the front door, she smiled, adding, “Your father is back with your present! I thought we’d give it to you this morning. It might change your plans for the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mom</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was smarter than his mother gave him credit for; it would take more than a crafty subject change to get him to drop his argument. But when his Jiwon stepped into the room, grinning ear to ear and holding a squirming puppy with curly brown fur and a bright red bow on its collar, Jisung’s jaw dropped and rendered him completely silent for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This had better not be a joke! Are you really going to let me keep him?” Jisung stood to greet the little puppy, unable to stop smiling, unable to look away. “I’ve been begging my parents for a pet for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I’m allergic to everything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s hypoallergenic,” his father explained, passing the puppy carefully over into his son’s arms. “Our only condition is that you need to be the one to take care of him. I bet Chenle will help you while he’s here, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Chenle replied brightly, reaching out to pat the little dog’s head. “I’ve never had a pet before! My parents would never allow it. What are you going to name him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was smitten. Chenle had never even gotten the inkling that he was an animal person, but in the presence of this tiny puppy, quivering with excitement as it tried to lick Jisung’s face, his friend’s eyes filled with absolute love. “I don’t know yet! I have to think about it!” His eyes turned eagerly on Chenle, and he asked, “Should we get him accustomed to our bedroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung set the puppy on the floor, kneeling beside him; it seemed that the puppy was just as enamored with his new owner, not even taking the chance to explore and instead climbing up onto his legs. Chenle stayed back at first - it seemed like a special bonding moment, after all - but then Jisung tilted his head back to look up at him, beckoning him down. “You need to help me think of a name. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>kick-ass</span>
  </em>
  <span> name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Chenle sat cross-legged in front of them, extending his hand, and the puppy wandered over to lick his fingers. “You could pick something ironic and out of character. Actually, that sounds just like you! How about Killer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way! I’m going to save Killer for when I’m a celebrity millionaire with a huge estate, and I’ll get a bullmastiff to guard all my expensive stuff,” Jisung explained confidently, giving Chenle a grin. “He’s tiny, so he gets a tiny name.” He clicked his tongue to get the dog’s attention again, laughing as his short little tail began to wag. “What do you think? Tiny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle couldn’t keep from smiling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>In an entire semester, he barely showed me this side of him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And it was a side that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a side whose cheeks he wanted desperately to pinch. Sometimes it was hard to resist fawning over Jisung, just like a puppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about Dot? Freckle?” Chenle suggested, trying out a couple Korean words he rarely had occasion to use. “Oh— Mouse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The puppy’s ears perked up at the sharp sound of the word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jwi</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he looked at Chenle as if in inquiry. “I think he likes that,” Jisung decided. “Besides, did I ever tell you what my cousins used to call me when I was really small and cute? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jwisung.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He grabbed his notebook from his bedside, glancing at the open page and deciding that it wasn’t worth keeping - tearing it out and crumpling it into a makeshift ball, which he tossed across the carpet and watched Mouse chase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>When</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were small and cute?” Chenle couldn’t keep from grinning. “You’re still pretty small.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re the same height!” Jisung ripped another page out of his notebook (not bothering to check it over this time) and threw it right at Chenle; Mouse took this as a signal to rush back at him, launching into his lap and shaking the paper ball in his mouth until it was slimy and shredded. “And besides, I’m still pretty cute too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How dare you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle couldn’t disagree. He didn’t try to. He turned his attention to wrestling the slobbery remains away from Mouse, and he tucked </span>
  <em>
    <span>Park Jwisung</span>
  </em>
  <span> into the back of his mind for later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>coffee</span>
  </em>
  <span> in Mandarin?” Jisung asked casually, pouring the steaming black liquid into two small mugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kafei,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chenle responded easily, leaning against the edge of the counter and wrinkling his nose a little. He didn’t even really like the way that coffee smelled, let alone the taste. “Don’t adults usually put cream and sugar in coffee? Like… a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of cream and sugar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Black coffee is zero-calories,” Jisung answered back, pushing the smaller of the two mugs towards Chenle. “It smells nice! I don’t think it will be that bad, actually. It’ll be worth it if we can stay up a little longer. Let’s aim for 2 AM. Or maybe 3.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clock was pressing midnight, but Jisung's energy was infectious and it gave Chenle a bit more enthusiasm for the task at hand. There was an open audition the next day at BigHit Entertainment and Chenle didn't want to go without at least one BTS dance mastered. Easier said than done, of course, but his </span>
  <em>
    <span>I Need U</span>
  </em>
  <span> was looking better with each repetition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well?" Chenle raised his mug carefully. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Geonbae</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was everything Chenle already knew to expect. Coffee was hot and bitter and strong - it was hard to will himself to swallow that first big gulp before he had to set the cup down on the kitchen counter and grab a glass for water. "The taste alone would wake you up! Okay, I don't care about calories; I'm putting milk and sugar in this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mm?" Jisung finally lowered his mug when Chenle spoke. Half-empty. "You don't like it? It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good. It makes me feel warm!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're a freak of nature!" Chenle shot back, adding two heaping spoonfuls of white sugar and a splash of milk to his coffee. The sweetness overpowered everything else that way. "Don't stay up all night mainlining coffee or your heart will give out tomorrow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I need to finish learning </span>
  <em>
    <span>Danger</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I wanna impress them." He leaned back against the sink as he held his mug close, and for the first time, Jisung seemed really and truly exhausted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hence the coffee, I suppose.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle sighed, muscling down another mouthful from his cup. "Let's head back down to the studio. We should sleep by 2, just to make sure we're ready tomorrow. You'll need your beauty sleep."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm flawless." Jisung corrected as they packed up their things to head back down. Secretly, Chenle sort of agreed, but it was easier to laugh at Jisung than say it aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BigHit didn't call back, which Chenle expected. He'd been too tired, as expected, and his dance had been sloppy. Jisung had been confident, but even so, he wasn't called back either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Chenle wasn't terribly upset by this, because in all these months of work, he'd set his sights on the best. He was certain that SM Entertainment was the place for him, based solely on the music that he wanted to make. All the vocal legends were there: Jonghyun, Taeyeon, Chen. His dancing was getting better and better, and he was starting to believe Jisung's praise: maybe he could keep up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Our 'friend' label is something I hate / My hidden feelings for you still remain…"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Singing felt so natural lately, not just in the practice room. In Shanghai, Chenle had only listened to music and sang alone in his room, but Jisung listened to music everywhere, singing while he practiced, did chores, did homework. Chenle picked up his habit little by little, growing comfortable with Jisung hearing his voice, but his favorite place to sing was still in the shower. The acoustics in Jisung's bathroom were </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Our relationship is a heartbreaking story / I'm sorry, summer, now goodbye, yeah, yeah…"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A second voice joining in, just audible over himself and the water, made Chenle jump. "Jisung! You didn't even knock!" He quickly adjusted the curtain to make sure he was concealed, while Jisung snorted in contempt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're taking forever in here. I gotta brush my teeth so I can go to bed," Jisung mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. "That's one of my favorite songs right now! You made me want to duet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?" Chenle laughed. If Jisung had a weakness, it was girl groups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah! It's really sad, isn't it? It makes me think of when you leave this summer…" Jisung paused to spit, giving Chenle's heart just enough time to sink down into his stomach. "It's even longer than Christmas break. It's gonna suck. We need to video chat, okay? I want to see your house and your family and stuff. Maybe we could talk my mom into letting me come visit!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle had been nearly ready to turn off the water, but he couldn't bear to now. He stood motionless under the spray, let it hit him in the face. "Yeah, yeah, maybe…" The truth was, his mother could easily afford the tickets if Chenle asked for them, but that would be unprecedented, having a friend over for more than a few hours at a time. He wasn't sure his family could hold it together for that long. Jisung would see through the cracks. "Or maybe you could come see my grandma's place. She lives in Shandong, in the country. She keeps pigs and chickens and stuff. It's pretty cool." Anywhere but Chenle's home— he couldn't even imagine Jisung there, with all his positive energy, lingering with Chenle's ghosts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you almost finished in there? Hurry up and come to bed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle suddenly laughed, remembering at last to turn off the water. "You sound like you want to cuddle."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I sleep better with your snoring as white noise. It soothes me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, shut up! I don't snore!" Chenle fumbled for his towel as he heard Jisung leave the bathroom, and he sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'll miss this. I'll miss it too much. I need to come back.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Despite his assurance that it was only Chenle's snoring that he needed, Jisung was camped out in Chenle's bed when he arrived and he flipped back the covers to make space for him when he was ready to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle didn't question it, he embraced it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> slept better with Jisung the space heater at his back, arm draped over him and snuffly breathing in his ear. It was bittersweet, and he needed to savor it while he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn't talk much on the way to the airport. Jisung had woken up with a frown that morning, which persisted with no explanation while they are breakfast; Chenle, too, couldn't look up from his plate. Sooyoung asked a million questions about Chenle's summer plans, and he made up answers to hide the fact that he was terrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, Jisung was </span>
  <em>
    <span>vocally</span>
  </em>
  <span> upset and had a great penchant for whining, so the silence was unnerving. But they shared earbuds in the car and Jisung sat between Chenle and his suitcase in the backseat, like a cat seeking warmth without wanting to outright beg. It was pretty cute - Chenle had to fight the urge to console him. Any comforting words that came to mind could easily be inadvertent lies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not mad, are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle finally spoke when they got out of the car at the airport. Jisung's parents had said their goodbyes and now sat idle in the car, giving the boys a moment alone. Despite the warmth of the sun, anticipation and dread had him feeling uncomfortable while he waited for a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No? I'm not mad, why would I be?" Jisung's frown deepened, and Chenle wanted to tell him to smile instead; it was troubling to see the worry lines on his face. "I'm sorry. I'm just sad to see you go. But it's not like you're not coming back next year. I'll see you in August!" Still, Jisung bit his lip, looking apprehensive about something and the next thing Chenle knew, Jisung's arms were around him and the younger boy was hiding his face against Chenle's neck. Chenle's fingers curled into his shirt as he held him, taken aback. "Will you be okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle wanted to answer enthusiastically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, why wouldn't I be</span>
  </em>
  <span>? But Jisung knew, somehow, that Chenle had cause for worry, and he wasn't sure that he could fake it anyway. "Mhm," he answered affirmatively, closing his eyes and taking in the smell of Jisung's shampoo, one last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Chenle, honey, security might be busy! You don't want to miss your flight!" Sooyoung called from the car window and Jisung pulled back out of the hug like Chenle had electrocuted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's right. You should go. Call me, though. Call me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An empty moment hung between them— stiff and heavy, so many things unsaid. Jisung waved and turned to get back in the car, pressing his hands to his eyes once the door closed. He couldn't stand that that would maybe be his last memory of Jisung, crying. Standing there outside with his suitcases, like a fool, he texted Jisung heart emojis of every color. But Jisung's mother had been right, he needed to get a move on - and so, forcing himself not to shed a tear, Chenle finally turned around and relented, letting the airport swallow him up.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Year 2, Semester 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chenle loved summers in Shandong, quiet except the buzz of cicadas out in the still air. As a child, he’d spent plenty of school vacations there, at his grandmother's old farmhouse: helping in the garden, feeding the animals, basking in all the doting and care that a grandmother gave best of all. His grandfather had passed on when Chenle was just a baby, and he had no strong recollection of him - but his grandmother was the strongest woman that he knew, and she stood for everything in his life that was purely </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He even had memories of her stepping to his defense against his mother, running her thumbs soothingly over the welts on the backs of his hands: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You can’t punish honest mistakes. Mistakes are what teach kids lessons, not discipline. Didn’t I teach you that? Did I ever raise a hand to you like that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re not with him all the time. You don’t know how it can be.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Now, don’t tell me that I don’t know my own grandson. All children are difficult, but Chenle is still a good boy. Don't let his father be so hard on him, either. It's not fair.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother’s attitude towards him had changed so drastically throughout the years. He still had foggy memories from when things were good, before he started school and his mother went back to her job at the law firm. He remembered helping her mix cookie dough, working alongside her in the garden and digging up earthworms, the songs she used to sing him to soothe him when he couldn’t sleep. His mother had a beautiful voice; it was easy to forget that she herself had wanted to be a singer as a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have been the added stress of work, he sometimes thought, or perhaps it was trying to perfect him for the private elementary school that his father insisted he attend. For a few years, her mother persona was a mask she could slip on or off, and he never exactly knew what he would get. It was when his full attention had gone to music, when his passion settled in, that her connection with her family seemed to disappear completely. Suddenly, she was only happy when she was at the office, and when she was home, it was often with a glass of wine in her hand and a scowl on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for his father? Chenle didn’t have fond memories of him at all. He was sure his dad must have hugged him and held him when he was a baby, but he couldn’t picture it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chenle, come have some tea with me before dinner.” His grandmother poked her head into the living room. Her home was cozy and small - you could practically have a conversation from opposite ends of the house - but Chenle felt so much more comfortable there, in that living room that hadn’t changed at all since his childhood. His grandmother had even left some of Chenle’s old artwork on the wall, stick-figure families drawn with a toddler’s clumsy hand. The woman herself didn’t seem to change much in Chenle’s eyes: a short and slight woman, black hair now streaked with intermittent grays. “What could you possibly still be doing on that thing? Not more schoolwork, I hope? Your eyes are going to melt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming, </span>
  <em>
    <span>laolao.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Chenle typed a quick sign-off to Jisung and closed the laptop. He had poor cell service so far out in the country, and his grandmother only had wired internet, which kept him tethered to the living room whenever he wanted to communicate with the outside world. “I was just catching up with Jisung. He wanted to show me the new dance he’s working on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, the dance teacher Jisung?” His grandmother teased, pouring the tea into two cups with fragile but steady hands. She’d been hard at work cooking dinner, and the kitchen air smelled mouth-wateringly spicy. “I’ve heard so much about this boy. Bring him to meet me next summer, won’t you?” Before Chenle could even open his mouth to remind her - </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not going to see him again</span>
  </em>
  <span> - she added on, with a small smile, “I spoke with your mother on the phone this morning, before you woke up. I coaxed an apology out of her, though I wish you’d been the one to hear it and not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle sat down at the table with his eyes carefully lowered. What he loved the most about his grandmother was that she usually knew what topics to avoid. She’d said precious little about the way he’d arrived two weeks before, with ghastly bruises on his throat. His mother rarely put her hands on him since he'd grown taller than her - but his father knew no other way when he was drunk and his temper flared.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care if I never hear an apology from her. I just want to go back. Seoul feels like home. My friends are there. My </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream</span>
  </em>
  <span> is there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you know why your mother wants to keep you close. Because she worries for you.” It sounded like a lie to Chenle, but he would never say such a thing openly to his grandmother, so he swallowed it. “I know, because I worried about her going to Shanghai for law school. But in the end, children are going to drift and come back - that’s just how it is. Just because you want to stay in Korea, doesn’t mean that you’ve abandoned us all here. Maybe that’s just where you should be.” His grandmother smiled. “We talked about lots of other things, too. But in the end, she listened to reason. She said that as long as you maintain your grades, you can go back to Korea in the fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Chenle thought for sure that his grandmother was confused, or that there would be some kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was nothing like that though, just an encouraging smile.  "How did you talk her into that? You're the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> He stood up to hug her tight - the top of her head barely reached his chin, but she squeezed him back just as strong. "You're the best! I'll definitely bring Jisung to see you— or I'll take you to Korea one of these days."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how well I’d take a trip like that. But you need to hurry up and get on TV, and I’ll watch you from here. I want to see you sing on a stage, Chenle.” His grandmother smiled warmly, and Chenle didn’t know how the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> he didn’t cry, but he didn’t. It was only later, snuck out to the living room at 2 AM messaging with Jisung, that the magnitude of it all hit him; his grandmother had given him this absolutely priceless gift, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do it now, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go back to Korea and work hard and make his </span>
  <em>
    <span>laolao </span>
  </em>
  <span>proud.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[2:14 AM] Jisung: hey when do u fly back<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:15 AM] Chenle: whenever i buy a ticket i guess. i should figure it out soon. when does the semester start?<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:16 AM] Jisung: come back this weekend<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:16 AM] Jisung: i’m going to lotte world with jaemin and jeno, those guys that i met in my summer dance class. and i want u to come! plus my parents won’t mind u coming early. mom misses u.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:17 AM] Chenle: i gotta check with my parents first<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:17 AM] Jisung: okay ^_^<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:23 AM] Jisung: r u falling asleep on me<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:24 AM] Chenle: no lmao i’m watching music videos<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:24 AM] Jisung: hey i am more entertaining than kpop<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:24 AM] Jisung: love me<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:25 AM] Jisung: i really miss u ♥<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>[2:26 AM] Chenle: omg jisung</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle didn’t ask his mother, but instead his grandmother, who gave him immediate permission to leave on Friday and insisted on giving him bus fare to the airport. It was a chance he didn’t feel like he deserved, but he took it gratefully and promised himself that he would do well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle hurried through the airport, squeezing through crowds, trying to make his way as quickly as possible to the baggage claim. This time, both of Jisung’s parents had to work, so Jisung himself would meet him and they would take a cab home. Chenle was anxious to see Jisung again, to pick up where they’d left off. Everything about training together and teaching each other made him feel motivated. What he’d once thought was brotherhood he was no longer sure about, because he suddenly felt like some critical piece of himself wasn’t there when he wasn’t with Jisung. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d almost be okay with things staying exactly like this, as long as I can stay close to him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The realization gave him a ticklish vibration down his spine, and he wondered if this sort of feeling had a name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chenle!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing Jisung’s voice made him instantly turn in its direction, but funnily enough, coming face to face, they both stopped for a moment. Jisung’s mouth fell open as though he might speak, but he stood in silence for an extended moment, wearing an almost awestruck expression. Chenle wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but it only took him a moment to put his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>thoughts into words: “You got taller! That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> fair!” When they’d met a year ago they’d been roughly the same height, but suddenly Chenle noticed that the top of his head was at Jisung’s eye line. Not only that, but he'd slimmed out even further, and it was noticeable in his face, which wasn't quite so round and babyish as Chenle recalled it. “You’re just wearing tall shoes or something, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung finally seemed to regain his composure, smirking. “Well, well. Who’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hyung</span>
  </em>
  <span> now?” He chuckled, patting the top of Chenle's head. Then, he broke into giggles, pulling his best friend into a tight hug, right in the middle of the airport. “I’m so happy you’re back…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.” Chenle felt choked with emotion, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could protest: “Hey, not so tight! You’re going to break my bones!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! Here, I’ll get your suitcases.” He extended both hands, insisting on taking not one but both as they moved towards the exit. "So how was Shanghai? How are your parents?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine. And… fine." Chenle's answers were tense. The bruises had faded, but the memory of strong fingers squeezing his throat had woken him with a pounding heart the night before. He decided to turn the conversation back to Jisung. "How's your family? And Mouse?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They miss you! Dad says I’m mopey without you around. But I’ve been working on training Mouse! He can roll over on command now! I'll show you when we get home. It's <em>so</em> cute." The cab was waiting, probably racking up a fare, but Chenle was thankful to slip into the air-conditioned backseat. “Oh, Mom said to text her when we know what we want for dinner. I was thinking pizza?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like you’re always thinking pizza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know that in America, pizza is a vegetable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is too! Jeno’s been to California. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle hadn't realized how much he'd missed this, the easy banter between them. Jisung's presence lightened his heart, made him feel secure. He rested his head quietly on Jisung's shoulder in the back of the cab - the scent of his laundry soap, strange as it was, made him feel suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>at home</span>
  </em>
  <span> again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hyung, why are you tearing up?" Jisung laughed quietly in surprise, and Chenle quickly hid his face in Jisung's shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not! The sun's in my eyes!" But he was feeling something, something different— a fire and determination that was completely renewed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have one year. It has to count.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lotte World was a totally new experience for Chenle, who had never been to an amusement park before. His mother liked to buy him expensive things and flaunt her wealth, but crowds and lines and roller coasters were beyond her level of patience. Of course, he'd seen it all on TV, but he'd always wanted to try going on a thrill ride, so Chenle followed Jeno and Jaemin to the park entrance </span>
  <em>
    <span>ready</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was Jisung, surprisingly, who plodded along quietly at the back, claiming he was tired. "I might just eat a lot of food, I don't know. Chenle, will you buy me snacks?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course I will! What kind of hyung would I be otherwise?" Chenle glanced back at him, smiling to himself. “How about I buy your ticket? My treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to. It’s a thank you,” Chenle decided firmly, pulling some cash out of his wallet to pay for the both of them. “Thank you for inviting me back early! Honestly… I was sad all summer because I wasn’t here.” It was the biggest, boldest understatement that Chenle had ever made, but it was true nonetheless. He’d been dreaming of returning to Seoul from the moment his plane departed in June; but Jisung, not knowing how close Chenle had been to staying in Shanghai, probably didn’t get the weight of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t spend a lot of money on me here! I was really kidding…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t.” Chenle paid for their admission, while Jaemin and Jeno lingered nearby, waiting for them. “Where should we start? I’ve never been here, what rides are the best?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we start with the lame ones and build our way up?” Jeno suggested. "How about the monorail that goes over the park? That way Chenle can see everything?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That seems like a waste of time. There's probably a line," Jisung dismissed quickly, fiddling with the bracelet pass on his arm. "We can just walk around. Oh, we should get drinks. I want an iced coffee!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't want to see the park from the sky? Jisung, are you scared of heights?" Jaemin asked incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"As if! I've just been to Lotte World a </span>
  <em>
    <span>million </span>
  </em>
  <span>times. It's not that exciting." Jisung shrugged, looking unimpressed by the weekend hustle and bustle around them. Still, the coffee cart they passed had a line far shorter than any ride, so Chenle made good on his promise and bought him a drink before the four of them began to scope out rides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can we start with that?" Chenle pointed towards the Viking ship, which he'd seen on TV a million times but never in person. It was so big that Chenle kept half-expecting it to hit the ceiling, but of course, it was carefully sized not to. “Seems like it’s not too scary. It’ll be a good warm-up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! It’s the scariest if you sit on the end. Look, there’s practically no line for it,” Jeno pointed out. “Should we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awesome!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shrugged, rattling the ice cubes in his plastic cup. “I have coffee now, so I can’t. But I’ll stand down here and hold everybody’s stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaemin rolled his eyes. “Because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have coffee?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s amusement park coffee! It was expensive! I’m not throwing it out!” He extended a hand to Chenle. "Give me your phone. I'll try to take pictures."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle got on the ride with Jeno and Jaemin, and when they were let off, they found Jisung at the nearby food stall waiting for an order of nachos. According to him, this exempted him from anything that went too fast or upside down. When they got in line for the Gyro Drop, Jisung conveniently needed to go find a bathroom. When they exited the ride, windblown and trembling with adrenaline, Jisung was waiting by the ride's exit with four orders of churros balanced carefully in his hands. Atlantis was the only real roller coaster there, and the ride that Chenle was most excited for, but Jisung declined this one on the premise that he was looking through the directory for a hamburger stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really impossible!” Chenle couldn’t help but feel a little irritated, mostly because Jisung was so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>smooth</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it. “You can’t be scared of every ride in this park!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not scared! I just like watching you guys better!” Jisung defended with a gentle smile. As usual, it did something to Chenle - it warmed him up and made anger impossible. “Have fun! I’ll be looking for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re not scared, then go on </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> ride with me,” Chenle challenged, gripping the railing between them that separated the line from bystanders. He was having to slowly inch along to keep up with Jeno and Jaemin, which seemed to amuse Jisung. “Hey, I’m serious! If you’re not scared of heights, go on the Ferris wheel with me after this. It’s not fast. It’s not upside down. You won’t hurl. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you dare go buy another drink, Park Jisung.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shrugged, face barely changing. “You’re being so weird. Fine. We’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle boarded with Jeno and Jisung, eyeing Jisung below to make sure he didn’t try to slip away. Surprisingly he stayed put at the fence, waving and blowing a kiss. Chenle snorted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dork.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He lost track of him when the ride started (and lost track of </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>, screaming a lot more than he would have liked to admit), but when he made his way through the exit, Jisung was waiting close by as promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it fun? Your hair looks insane!” Jisung reached out dutifully to fix it for him, running his fingers gently through his bangs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was really fun! It would have been more fun with you, though.” Chenle smiled as he grabbed Jisung’s wrist. “Are you ready for the Ferris wheel now? I just want you to ride one thing with me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just one.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind him, Jaemin interjected, “Don’t pressure him if he’s scared of heights!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not scared of heights! I told you!” Jisung pouted cutely, and Chenle felt his heart swell. “Let’s go. Which way was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line was a lot shorter than it had been earlier in the day and consisted mostly of children, which Chenle hoped was a comfort. Jisung didn’t say a word or look at anyone, not even the attendant that shut the gate to their cart and made sure they were secure. As soon as he could, he gripped the bar in front of them, and the ride shuddered as it began to move again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not scared?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chenle, I am fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” It was easy to tell that Jisung wasn’t lying. His hands were shaking as he hugged Chenle’s arm, seeking out his hand to hold and squeezing his eyes shut tight. “I’m not scared of heights. I’m scared of this rust-bucket falling apart or breaking down while we’re trapped up here! All it takes is one bolt to give out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Seriously?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung exhaled shakily, wincing a bit with every jerky movement of the wheel. “Sorry. I’m lame. I didn’t want you to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why did you invite me here if you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> it here?” Chenle found himself laughing and tried to hide it behind his hand, but he figured it was okay because Jisung was laughing, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it seemed like your summer was sucking! I wanted to bring you somewhere to have fun - and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have fun, I could tell!” Jisung snuck a peek at him, even though that meant opening one eye just a bit. “And I still enjoyed myself. It was fun to watch you have fun. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra</span>
  </em>
  <span> fun to gorge myself on good food the whole time! You owe me another coffee after this, by the way…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle felt wrong in enjoying it, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>. After so long away, he felt starved for Jisung’s warmth and attention. The clutch of his fingers, his hands so much bigger than Chenle’s - when had that happened? Had Jisung’s hands always dwarfed his own?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cart came to a stop at the very top of the wheel, and Jisung dared to open his eyes, peering out of the cart. Instantly his face paled, and he wrapped himself tighter around Chenle’s arm, like he could somehow anchor him down. His chin rested on Chenle’s shoulder, his breath tickled his neck. “You're not allowed to move, do you hear me? I hate this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Chenle laughed quietly but obeyed nonetheless, keeping still and letting Jisung hold him. When they were finally let off of the ride at the end, Jisung’s knees were shaking. Jeno and Jisung, deciding that the Ferris wheel was lame, had opted to watch from the ground with snowcones, and they met them at the exit with grins plastered to their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not scared of heights? We almost thought you two were kissing up there,” Jeno teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what if we were? Hyung is cute.” Jisung was still trembling, but the cocky, self-assured expression on his face made them all burst into laughter. "Holy shit. I thought I was going to die up there. Hyung, I want to cash in on that coffee I’m owed. I need to be re-caffeinated."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just a single day, but Chenle would always look back fondly on their one trip to Lotte World together. Later that night on Jaemin's Instagram, he'd uploaded a picture of Jisung and Chenle after the Ferris wheel: Jisung holding their shared coffee out for Chenle to drink, grinning as he watched him. It was a remarkably handsome picture of Jisung, Chenle thought - bronze skin, too-long hair brushed messily out of his face, with a laugh that Chenle could practically hear from the picture. With their bodies so close, shoulders nearly touching, Jisung </span>
  <em>
    <span>glowed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle’s body didn’t feel ready to train again. It took a few days to return to the rhythm of the school year: early mornings, long school days, dancing in the practice rooms until dinnertime, then holing up in Jisung’s bedroom to study like crazy until bed. Keeping his grades up was part of the deal, and he believed his mother at her word: she’d have him return home if he didn’t perform to her standards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung, watching him from the bedroom doorway, gave an extra-dramatic slump of his shoulders when he caught Chenle’s attention. “You don’t even like me anymore since school started. You’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>changed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hyung.” He plopped himself down on Chenle's bed, absentmindedly petting Mouse, who was snoozing away on his pillow.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle sighed, turning back to the work in front of him on his desk. “I do like you! I’m sorry! I’m just… panicking,” he admitted, fiddling with his mechanical pencil rather than meeting Jisung’s eyes. “My mom said I need to keep my grades up to stay here, and the work this year is harder! I almost want to stay after school and get math tutoring, but that would cut into practice time, and after last year…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? Last year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Chenle closed his notebook, history homework still half-finished. “Neither of us did what we set out to do,” he mumbled. He hated to say it about Jisung, but it was equally true for them both. “We both thought we were hot shit, but neither of us got a single audition callback. I feel like a failure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s brows furrowed as though he were having trouble comprehending. “At school or at music? I’m confused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Chenle pouted, spinning the chair to face Jisung and wheeling himself a little closer to pet the puppy as well— he'd wriggled himself little by little into Jisung's lap. “My parents don’t want me here,” he finally admitted, softly. “They think being an idol is a stupid dream. But I want to be here. More than I can even explain…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shifted a bit— and then Chenle felt his touch, surprisingly delicate, as Jisung reached out to give his head a soothing pat. He'd never had a friend that he could be so intimate with before, but it felt oddly good, having someone want to touch him just to make him feel better. "I think you need to give yourself a break. Why don't you bring your homework to the living room with me? I'll help you finish and we can watch all the episodes of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Running Man</span>
  </em>
  <span> I recorded while you were gone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung didn't give off the vibe of a star student, but he was a good help, even though his notes were absolute chicken scratch. He was able to divide his attention between the homework and the TV with ease (and even Mouse, who had wiggled his way into the warm space between them), but Chenle’s mind was stuck in a haze. Jisung's warm body so close was a welcome distraction from all the stress, and his voice at Chenle's ear gave him pleasant chills. It was almost a disappointment when the assignment was done, and Chenle found himself thankful that at least Jisung didn’t move away.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I must be more tired than I thought.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When the last episode of the show ended, Chenle yawned, rubbing his eyes. In what seemed like a blink, the clock had gone from 10 PM to after midnight. He'd dozed off at some point, woken only by Mouse climbing over his lap; Jisung was still sleeping deeply, even snoring softly into the fabric of Chenle’s sweater. Chenle tried to lift his arm to nudge him awake, but Jisung’s fingers curled into his arm stubbornly, and Chenle rolled his eyes. “Jisung. Jisung!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Jisung nuzzled his face into Chenle’s shoulder, but didn’t seem to be waking. Chenle sighed, slipping his way out from under Jisung so he could stand up; his weight fell against the armrest on his other side, but surprisingly, Jisung didn't stir. Chenle gave him a couple more little jabs with his finger, but Jisung only groaned in half-hearted protest and curled up more comfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your back is going to hurt if you sleep like that." Chenle tried talking to him, naively hopeful, but of course Jisung gave him no response. That should have been where Chenle's responsibility ended, he knew. He really did consider just leaving him, but it seemed almost cruel - not to mention, his mother was always scolding him for staying up too late watching TV, and seeing him asleep on the couch the next morning would only give her more ammo. And so, begrudgingly, Chenle made the decision that he was going to have to move Jisung back to his room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As quietly as possible.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>One arm slipped under Jisung’s shoulders, the other beneath his knees, and Chenle lifted him as quietly as he could manage. Despite his new height and his muscle from dancing, Jisung wasn’t heavy, just awkward with his long legs; after a moment of adjustment, with Jisung nuzzling unconsciously into his shoulder, he began the careful trek down the hallway to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thump.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chenle had tried to angle his body to get through the doorway, but he winced at the sound of Jisung’s legs knocking against the doorframe. Chenle quickly stopped moving, trying not to laugh, but Jisung beat him to it, suddenly breaking into giggles and surprising Chenle so badly that he nearly dropped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shhhh.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jisung scolded softly. “I’m sorry! I woke up a while ago - I just wanted to see how far you’d actually get. You know, I probably would have just left you on the couch, if the tables were turned. Hey, what are you doing! Don’t put me down here, finish the job!” His arms went around Chenle’s neck stubbornly, and before he could protest, Jisung whispered, “You’re stronger than I thought you’d be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard not to laugh, and in the dark, he blindly hid his face in Jisung’s hair to muffle himself. “You’re such a pain! If it wasn’t the middle of the night, I would drop you!” The doorway was their only obstacle, and after that it was a clear shot to the bed - though he nearly fell over when his legs hit the bed frame, catching himself with his hands on the mattress before he could crush Jisung beneath his body weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God. And you make fun of </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> for being clumsy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can walk next time, then!” Chenle stood up, adding, “I’m going to turn the TV off and get my homework. I think we knocked it on the floor when we fell asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s fingers brushed clumsily against Chenle’s hand, fumbling in the dark as Chenle pulled away. “Sleep here tonight. I’m really cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Give me a second, I’ll be back,” Chenle promised, turning back for the door and returning to the living room. His notebook was on the couch beside his backpack, while Jisung’s had fallen to the floor, open and spilling a few loose pages. Chenle gathered them carefully to shove behind the front cover - but in the dim light of the television, he paused when he noticed Jisung’s doodling on the back of one assignment, the scrawled hangul amid them:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“When are you going to stop being a fool, stop treating me like a friend? </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not what I want.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It gave Chenle a moment of pause, reading them over again and again, feeling the beginnings of butterflies in his stomach. Then, out of nowhere, it dawned on him that he was looking at some Twice lyrics that Jisung had absentmindedly doodled - probably while he was dozing off in class. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be it, because while Jisung had begun to branch out and make friends in high school, he wasn’t close with any girls. Chuckling to himself, he shoved everything in his backpack and turned the TV off. He’d have to remember so that he could tease Jisung the next day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s body was curled up amongst the blankets when Chenle returned, visible only as a lumpy silhouette, with Mouse settling at the foot of the bed in his usual sleep spot. Chenle moved as quietly as possible, changing into his pajamas in the safety of the dark and slipping into bed beside him. At first, he lay with his back to him, trying to allow for some space between them, but there was something vaguely unsatisfying about it. He felt like they could definitely be warmer. He rolled over and scooted close, but that meant his arm draped over Jisung’s body just above his hips. He heard Jisung’s breath catch for a moment, and he cautiously settled in, but Jisung stayed silent and soon they both relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really wasn’t easy to balance school with practicing, and Chenle knew that Jisung felt it, too. Chenle thought sometimes that he might give up if not for his friend’s support, as he knew that Jisung would never let him. No one wanted or deserved to become an idol more than Jisung, and Jisung always spoke as though Chenle would be there beside him, as though it were a given that they would debut together one day. Chenle was beginning to doubt his own ability, but he was determined to run alongside Jisung, against the wind, for as long as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, maybe they wouldn’t have forever. Maybe they would only have until Jisung got signed and stardom ate him up. Maybe they would only have one more year. Chenle couldn’t bear to think about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their biggest and most important audition during the fall semester was JYP: from the moment he heard about it, Jisung began pushing himself even harder than ever, determined to impress. Seeing him peering at his reflection in his phone, running his fingers through his messy black hair while they rode the subway, Chenle snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look fine. Anyway, Twice isn’t actually going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shush!” Jisung elbowed him lightly, smiling. “I’m just nervous! I feel like I have to get this. And… </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all the days to wake up with dark circles. I’ve tried </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Isn’t sixteen too young to get burned out like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least winter vacation is coming up. We can both catch up on sleep,” Chenle replied in what he hoped was a light way, trying to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth. He hated the idea of going back home for break, but he could at least hope for some rest for Jisung. “But anyway, you look fine, so stop worrying about it. I can barely see that you’re tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say. You have such good skin. You’re handsome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle laughed without meaning to. Try as he might, he’d never been great on taking compliments about his appearance. It wasn’t that he felt ugly, but he certainly didn’t think himself to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>good looking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In his eyes, Jisung’s face was so elegant, with a smile that never failed to elevate Chenle’s mood and make him smile back. There was no way he could compare. “Handsome? Excuse me, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>where?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung unlocked his phone and opened the camera, holding it between them to display both of their faces with the front camera. “Here,” Jisung said simply, poking Chenle in the cheek with his index finger as he took the picture. “Aww! We’re both cute in that one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fair! I wasn’t even smiling! I wasn’t ready!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s take a couple more. We don’t have enough pictures together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That point, Chenle couldn’t disagree. And who knew how long it would be before these pictures were precious to them, maybe all they would have of these moments? This time Jisung leaned his head against Chenle’s, and Chenle didn’t have to consciously smile - it was automatic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurred to Chenle, when the weather began to get cold, that he should get Jisung a Christmas present before he returned to China. The year before he had been too concerned about going home and dealing with his parents; this year, he was trying to set his anxiety aside and make some good memories to take home with him. It was hard to slip away from Jisung to do any of his own shopping, so he made his purchase online and asked Sooyoung to stash it away as soon as the package arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last day of the semester was bittersweet; Chenle was relieved when he left school, knowing that he had a short reprieve from bookwork and exams, but he had just hours before he was slated to return home. He hadn’t brought it up with Jisung yet. He didn’t have the heart to. He was afraid that saying it out loud would be too much for him, but fortunately, Jisung beat him to it as they got off the bus: “Let’s skip practice today. I actually have something I really want to do before you go home tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skip practice? That doesn’t sound like you. Must be important.” Chenle tried to keep his tone neutral. He’d actually been looking forward to the escape of dancing with Jisung, to clear his mind of thoughts about what was coming— but then Jisung took his hand as they headed into the apartment stairwell, and Chenle’s mind tossed out all his reservations. Maybe he <em>didn’t</em> want a distraction; he was going to miss this closeness, and he wanted to savor it for one more day, while he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took off their shoes and Jisung beelined for the bedroom; when Chenle caught up with him, he was reaching for the highest shelf in the closet, having to stand on tiptoe. What he grabbed at last was a red and white gift bag, decorated with a holiday bow. “I wanted to get you something for Christmas. Just because you seem sad about going home, so - if you’re ever having a hard time, you can use this and think of me.” He extended the bag towards Chenle with an unmistakable blush, and Chenle broke into a grin, feeling flustered and awkward and wonderful all at once. It brought back memories of their first meeting, except this time, the butterflies in his stomach felt different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on one second,” he finally managed, retrieving his own wrapped gift for Jisung from its hiding place under the bed. “I’ll open that, you open this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You stole my idea!” Jisung grinned, now flustered himself. “Open mine first, then, asshole.” He sat beside Chenle on his bed - which was always impeccably made, now that Chenle fell asleep in Jisung’s bed for warmth more often than not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Underneath layers of tissue paper, Chenle first found a sealed bag of loose chamomile and mint tea. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift: Jisung knew that it was the surest thing to relax him on the nights when he couldn’t sleep. Next there was candy - some of Chenle’s favorite chocolate, as well as the gummy bears that were Jisung’s current addiction. Beneath all </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, there was a fleece blanket much like the one on Jisung’s bed, white and fluffy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Use this and think of me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The realization made Chenle’s eyes sting, but he tried not to let it show in his face, smiling instead. “Thank you! Honestly… it might be weird to feel this way, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> sad. Maybe I’m weird, but it feels more like home here than anywhere else…” Chenle had a big lump in his throat, and he hugged the blanket tight, trying to expel some of the tense energy as he insisted, “Don’t talk about this anymore, you’ll make me miss you before I even leave. Open your gift! It took me a lot of time to decide what to buy you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a wimp,” Jisung scoffed in his usual teasing way, but Chenle didn’t miss the delicacy with which he opened his gift, pulling the tape up carefully to unfold the wrapping paper around it. Chenle wasn’t used to buying gifts, and it had taken him awhile to settle on something. After some time-intensive research, he’d selected the best pair of audiophile headphones he could find— Jisung was always buying (and breaking) cheap earbuds, and Chenle had thought to get him something that would last. Jisung was quiet, studying the box for a moment with wide eyes. “Hyung, I barely got you anything. How can I accept these?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle shrugged self-consciously. They’d been expensive, but since he rarely talked about home, he wasn’t sure that Jisung really grasped how little money mattered in his family. “I mean, accept them because I want you to have them. And when you use them, think of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to get you something better now! You’re too good to me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Chenle had to laugh at Jisung’s obvious distress. He was so sweet, so pure. “I’m your hyung. I like taking care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hugged him then, squeezing tight until Chenle protested, and he loosened his grip but couldn’t bring himself to let go. It was hard to wrestle with the emotions tightening his throat, but Chenle only laughed as he rubbed Jisung’s back and acted as naturally as he could. Later that night, though, he would replay the hug in his mind over and over, squeeze the fleece blanket to his chest, and let silent tears escape in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle was silent when he got in the car in front of the airport, avoiding his mother’s eyes. Their communication had been non-existent since Chenle had stormed out that summer, buying a train ticket to go stay with his grandmother, but certainly neither of them had forgotten that. Certainly she hadn’t forgotten the bruises, either, the way his father had lifted him by the throat right in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She surprised him by suddenly telling him that she didn’t have to return to the office and that she thought they might stop for lunch before they returned home. What could he do, disagree? She picked an upscale little cafe in the city, ordered coffees and sandwiches; Chenle sat straight-backed and tense, unsure how to even act. He truly couldn’t remember the last time his mother had done something like this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just because</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sipped his coffee stiffly and waited for her to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, Chenle,” she spoke up before too long, looking him in the eye. She was such a direct person, he was surprised that she’d gone through all these formalities to tell him what was on her mind. “I wanted to talk to you alone before your father got to you, because we didn’t have the chance to catch up before you returned to Seoul for school. I’m hoping that, beginning now, we can start over with a clean slate. I know our home hasn’t been easy for you to grow up in. I know my standards are high, and there’s no reasoning with your father’s temper. I don’t want you to feel unwelcome or… </span>
  <em>
    <span>unsafe</span>
  </em>
  <span> at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was carefully worded, Chenle realized, so that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> an apology. He wondered if she’d rehearsed this in her head on the way in. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he should have known better than to hope for a true apology. All he could do was nod, finding his voice gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re glad you’re home. Truly.” She reached across the table and touched his hand, and he jumped a little at how convincingly tender the gesture was. He didn’t believe for a second that she meant it. “Your father and I have talked about your studies, and I’ve begun looking into arts high schools in Shanghai. We should start submitting some soon… since we don’t know what the fall will bring yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was. An ulterior motive, as always. Chenle had been hungry a moment ago, but thinking about applying and transferring to a new high school had him feeling queasy. “I like my school in Korea. I really like the friends that I’ve made. Why do you want me to transfer with one year left?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a gift for music. I just think that K-pop is the wrong </span>
  <em>
    <span>application</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re wasting something very special.” She was already looking at her phone again, typing away while she spoke to him - one of her specialties. She could only give her child undivided attention for so long. “Anyway, you’ll feel better once we’re all adjusted together at home. Clean slate, remember? It’s a shame that you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> being with your own family, Chenle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle bit his tongue. He didn’t mention that he’d overheard his mother, plenty of times, saying that she didn’t like being with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> own family, either. He didn’t argue, but he also didn’t volunteer anything but one-word answers, and with each one, he could feel her edge closer to her boiling point. The slate between them would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> be truly clean.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Year 2, Semester 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The promise of a new beginning lasted just a week. However genuine his mother’s proposal to fix their relationship might have been, there was simply no way that she could get his father on board as well. One week of shaky pseudo-progress, not talking but tolerating each other, and it was unraveled all at once by a bad day at work and a pint of whiskey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of that whiskey had gone down his father’s throat, the ignition for the argument, and the  end of the bottle had coated the kitchen floor when the glass shattered against Chenle’s hand. Two broken fingers were nothing compared to what might have happened if he hadn’t lifted his hand in time to shield his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, Chenle was reluctant to leave his bedroom any more than necessary. He didn’t see his friends from middle school or enjoy the once-familiar city. He didn’t even have the willpower to sing or dance. He sat in his room and drank tea, listened to music, looked out the window at the impeccably kept garden, and let his mind wander. Jisung had offered to hop on a flight to Shanghai as soon as Chenle needed him, but Chenle couldn’t endure the thought of Jisung being poisoned by this place, too. His house sucked the energy out of people - it was no wonder his mother was always at the office and his father was always at the bar. He kept to himself until the day of his flight back to Korea, and perhaps out of guilt, his mother didn't fight him on it. She left him money for a cab to the airport that morning. No kiss goodbye, no "I love you". Their second try had been a miserable failure.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Attention passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We’re beginning our descent, despite some bad weather spotted over Seoul. No delays are expected, but please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for turbulence.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle sighed. Just another bump in the road, he thought to himself, holding tight to his seat - but he was almost there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The turbulence wasn’t too bad, but the wind was whipping on the walk from the plane to the airport gate, and he tried not to let it bother him. Chenle hated storms, he had since he was little. Normally he could distract himself, or put in headphones and think about something else, but his anxiety was already heightened and he wasn’t sure that even being back in Seoul would make him feel any better. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe this is my last chance. Maybe next year, I’ll only be able to talk to Jisung through a computer screen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was odd, Chenle caught after a second thought, that his first thought had nothing to do with whether or not he’d become an idol and achieve his dreams. But the thought was interrupted before he could analyze it: “Hyung!” Jisung’s arms swung around him from behind, face pressed lovingly into Chenle’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to give me a heart attack!” Chenle complained, trying to sound natural and light-hearted despite his worries. It always took him some time to readjust when he returned to Korea, to remember that he could smile and sing and speak freely with Jisung. The change in atmosphere gave him whiplash, made him dizzy. “Help me spot my suitcase! I think a storm is coming, so we should try to get back quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t help it. I’ve been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored</span>
  </em>
  <span> without you. Jaemin and Jeno aren’t nearly as fun.” Jisung released him at once, set on the task he’d been given, and Chenle took his first good look at him. He looked surprisingly chic in a leather jacket and skinny jeans, with the headphones Chenle had bought him hanging around his neck and his hair gelled back. Jisung already looked the part of an idol, he noted with envy - he made everything and anything look good. As if feeling Chenle’s eyes on him, he glanced his way with his cheeks faintly pink. “Wow, you look like you’ve lost weight, hyung. You know that means my mom is going to try and fatten you up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I? I don’t know. I haven’t been dieting,” Chenle replied honestly, spotting his suitcases finally and snatching one off of the conveyer belt. “Can you get my other bag? I, uh… hurt my hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Jisung looked down at Chenle’s bandaged fingers automatically, nearly missing the second suitcase. The ring finger and pinky on his right hand were in splints and wrapped in medical tape until they were one single, immobile blob. Underneath, he knew that they were still swollen and purple, and that they likely would be for a few weeks more. It was going to be impossible to avoid, but Chenle’s stomach still dropped when Jisung questioned, “What happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shut my fingers in the car door,” Chenle answered with a little wince. “They’re just fractures, though - the doctor said I got lucky. They should be healed up before long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re clumsier than I am. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> never done that.” Jisung took the other suitcase, too, and led the way back to the exit where his parents were waiting. Looking Chenle over once more, he pried, “Are you sure you’re not sick or something? You seem like you’re not feeling well. And you’re pale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> pale,” Chenle reminded him, trying to make a joke out of it. “I was also up early packing. Really, I’m just tired. And I probably lost weight because my mom is too busy to cook and I’m too lazy! You can only have takeout so many nights before it doesn’t taste good anymore. I’ve missed your mom’s food almost as much as I’ve missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got outside, the rain was already coming down, and Jisung led the way as quickly as possible. He didn’t bother with the trunk, simply shoving the suitcases into the furthest seat and sitting in the middle. A flash of lightning startled him just as he closed the door, and he nearly missed Jisung’s parents turning to greet him. Despite his best efforts, he was trembling, and he hoped Jisung would think it was the cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Jisung asked quietly, reaching ahead to retrieve Mouse from his mom and place him consolingly in Chenle’s lap. Indeed, the little dog seemed to have missed him; he sniffed Chenle all over, wagging his tail so hard that his whole body wiggled, but even this took a moment to register with him and make him smile. It was like his mind was on some kind of delay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, what’s wrong with me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. The lightning startled me. I’m fine.” Even to Chenle’s ears, the words sounded robotic and artificial, but Jisung didn’t pry. He did his best to answer Sooyoung’s cheerful questions with convincing lies - that he had a good Christmas, visited his grandmother, and spent lots of time with his friends - all while fighting with a strange, uncomfortable dissociation. He wanted to be there with Jisung, he’d expected to be happy from the moment they hugged, but he also felt overwhelmed and exhausted and frustrated and terrified. He clutched Mouse close, let the little dog lick his face, and tried to focus on his breathing to avoid a meltdown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time they got back to the apartment, but a clap of thunder still made Chenle’s body tense on the way up the stairs, and he was certain that Jisung could see it, trailing behind him as he was. “I know the flight wasn’t long, but I feel jetlagged, somehow. Tired from flying. I might lay down for a little while…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sooyoung frowned. “I was going to throw some lunch together. You don’t want to eat something first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thanks. I’m feeling a little sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew to expect Jisung’s footsteps following him down the hallway, but pride be damned, he wanted somebody beside him after two weeks alone. He had no idea what to tell him, what kind of excuse that he could make - but he was falling apart, and he couldn’t hide it forever. When the door closed behind him, Jisung placed the suitcases at the foot of Chenle’s bed, and turned to him slowly, giving Chenle time to come forward with his thoughts on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where do I start? With hating my family? Hating myself? How exhausting it is to constantly be waiting for the next explosion? How I have to talk myself out of thinking that it’s my fault?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He met Jisung’s eyes and his vision went blurry with tears - and Jisung said nothing, absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just pulled him forward and wrapped his arms around Chenle’s waist in a perfectly soft, secure embrace. He hid his face in Jisung’s neck by instinct, overcome with the warmth and the familiar scent of his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you please tell me why you’re crying? So I can try and make it better?” Jisung whispered, lips brushing against Chenle's ear as they moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was such a naive and earnest request, so unabashedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>pure</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it made Chenle sob quietly. There were a million reasons that he couldn’t say, but there was one that popped into his mind that was safe, and suddenly he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to spill: “I hate being apart from you like that. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels wrong. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I... I wish we could be together all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No response. All Chenle could register was the pounding of Jisung’s heart and the way his arms tightened around him protectively. He didn’t try to speak, he didn’t offer any consolation, but he also didn’t pull away. He held Chenle for the longest time just like that, standing in the middle of their bedroom, and Chenle soaked in the moment - not realizing that Jisung had shed tears of his own until they broke apart and he noticed his best friend’s damp, red eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure everything’s okay </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though? Really, really sure?” Jisung’s left hand found Chenle’s right, delicately touching his bandaged fingers. Outside, the thunder had lulled, and all he could hear was the rain on the roof above them. He took a deep breath, in his nose, out his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Everything’s good now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it always happened, Jisung’s cozy little home had the opposite effect on Chenle’s psyche. It didn’t drain him, it nourished his mood instead. Even with the stress of school, he was happy; even with the looming idea of returning to Shanghai for his final year of high school, he practiced hard alongside Jisung and clung fast to his dream. When Jisung talked about it, it still felt like he had a chance somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he really lived for, though, were the little moments in between. Sitting close as they did homework, Jisung reading aloud from their literature assignments to save Chenle the time of deciphering the less familiar Korean words. Going to sing noraebang on Jisung’s seventeenth birthday, laughing and teasing each other but still blowing Jaemin and Jeno out of the water with their performance. The way Jisung hurried to configure the pillows at night just how Chenle liked them, enticing him to join him in his bed with Mouse curled up in the space above their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up? Skipping out on practice today?” Chenle asked as he stepped out into the kitchen. He’d woken up by himself on a Saturday morning, and so he’d assumed that Jisung was whipping up breakfast before they went down to the dance studio, but much to his surprise, Jisung seemed to have a much bigger project going on. He had barely softened butter and brown sugar in a bowl, which he was trying to break into clumps using a hand whisk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mom gave me her sugar cookie recipe. She used to make these all the time when I was little, and I’d get to decorate them all,” Jisung explained brightly, still struggling with the whisk getting stuck in the butter clumps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s painful to watch you try and do that. Here.” Chenle gently took the glass mixing bowl out of Jisung’s hands and popped it in the microwave, just for a few seconds, to make the butter a bit more manageable. He didn’t have much in the way of kitchen skills, but he was somehow better off than Jisung, who could barely cook rice for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, hyung!” Jisung called sweetly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re only calling me that so I’ll make you cookies, I have a suspicion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whaaat? That’s bull. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>making</span>
  </em>
  <span> the cookies, you’re just… my mentor,” Jisung insisted defensively. While Chenle creamed the butter and sugar, Jisung moved on to the next step of mixing his dry ingredients, humming softly. “Anyway, if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>haven’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> noticed, I’m doing my best to speak properly to you now that you’re back.  Maybe that way you’ll feel better about your growth spurt taking its time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re such a respectful dongsaeng, look at you go.” Chenle rolled his eyes, adding the eggs one by one and then mixing in the dry ingredients that Jisung had prepared. “What’s next? Do we need a rolling pin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup! I can handle this part. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> has been my job since I was, like, five,” Jisung boasted, flouring the work surface. He grabbed a rolling pin from the baking cupboard, and after a little rummaging, a heart-shaped cookie cutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hearts? Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Valentine’s Day is coming, dummy.” Jisung answered like it was obvious, turning the dough out onto the work surface and flouring the rolling pin, ignoring the blush that was forming fast on his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle’s jaw dropped - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Valentine’s Day?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was surprised to even hear Jisung talk about it when romance was something so far out of his element. Jisung ate, drank, and breathed music, and flat out ignored the girls who were beginning to give him second looks in the hallways. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does he have someone he's never told me about?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Who are you calling a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dummy</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Valentine’s Day is for girls to give gifts to guys, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dummy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re a month early!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung stuck out his tongue. “Yeah, well, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> no girl, because these cookies are for you. I figured I’d get you a Valentine’s Day gift in order to work off some of the debt from those expensive headphones you insisted on giving me. And don’t give me something back for White Day, because then I’ll owe you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The revelation of Jisung’s thought process made Chenle blush, taken aback for just a moment. He had never gotten a gift for Valentine’s Day before, not that he much cared either way - but it was odd, thinking about his first-ever present coming from a guy, from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Then he turned to the sink, to wash the flour off his hands, and the greater irony dawned on him: “You should still owe me </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because I just did all the hard work in making that dough! I didn’t realize I was making my own Valentine’s Day present!” As far as he was concerned, he was done helping, but he leaned back against the counter to watch as Jisung worked the dough thinner and thinner. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> seem that he was good at this part, and it was mesmerizing to watch. “But seriously, don’t think of those as something you need to pay back. You’re not indebted to me. Jisung, you’re doing me a huge favor just by </span>
  <em>
    <span>existing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, do you realize that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung looked up at him, with his hands pausing, and they held each other’s eyes - and that moment hung heavy between them once again, nearly a month old but still so powerful: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish we could be together all the time.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Neither of them said it, but Chenle somehow knew they were both thinking it, and Jisung looked down at his hands again with a little smile. “Sure, hyung, anything you say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt cheesy and stupid, so Chenle was happy to let the conversation drop, but his brain hung onto the last words that he’d said. In fact, he suspected they were something of an understatement: In a timeline where Jisung didn’t exist, Chenle wasn’t even sure that he himself made it to seventeen years old. The thought was chilling, but it made the gift of Jisung's presence all the more wondrous. He was, quite literally, a lifesaver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he wasn’t about to tell Jisung to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> making him cookies. Selfishly, perhaps, watching Jisung cut out heart after heart from the sugar cookie dough made Chenle’s stomach come alive with butterflies, and he wasn’t exactly sure why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Training was a lot of work, but it was work that Chenle enjoyed nonetheless. With the knowledge that his time in Korea was limited, and the feeling that his chances of stardom were fading, his focus shifted from his grades to his passion once again. If he was going out, it would be in a blaze of glory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a familiar comfort, changing from his school uniform into his familiar workout clothes and quipping back and forth with Jisung while he selected the warm-up music. Jisung was still in charge of their dance routines, while Chenle worked to find the songs that would suit their drastically different voices. Hearing Jisung’s vocal skills developing made Chenle glow with pride. He sounded lovelier than either of them had thought possible - warm, smooth, and sweet. Sometimes Jisung looked incredulous after the final notes of a song, and he’d close his eyes and catch his breath and smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle loved those moments. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Go back to that song. I like that song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so bossy. You and your SM boys.” Jisung was laying on the practice room floor with his legs propped vertically against the wall, stretching himself after their intense dance workout. Still, he obediently hit the “back” button on his phone, and the Bluetooth speaker returned to the song he’d skipped: “Without You” by NCT U.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think this is the kind of music I’m going to make. I mean, ideally.” Chenle was just as exhausted, hair damp with sweat, and he plopped himself down unceremoniously beside Jisung. The younger’s eyes were closed, bangs brushed haphazardly back from his face, and he hummed in quiet acknowledgment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the lyrics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle smiled. He stretched his arm, splayed his fingers, let his fingers brush against Jisung’s. “I do, too. It makes me want to write a love song, even though I know I’d be shit at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d be good at it just like you’re good at everything else,” Jisung shot back playfully. Chenle opened his mouth to protest, but half a second later, Jisung joined in with Taeil’s voice from the speaker: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We were born loners; I’m waiting for someone who will walk beside me…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it, Chenle found himself grinning. The moment was just for them, pure joy and exhilaration. He breathed deep, and joined Jisung at the chorus:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hold my hand, draw a circle, t</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>hat’s how much we’ve shared / </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>My heart is with you, your dream is with me / </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Living and enduring, w</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>e'll be happier together / </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Endlessly connected, ca</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>n’t live without you…</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung dropped out halfway through the chorus, which would have thrown Chenle off and made him clam up in embarrassment a year before. This time he faltered, but regained himself and continued strong - and he had to admit, he sounded pretty good for laying on the floor and recovering from a cardio workout. Jisung sang along to bits and pieces while he scrolled through something on his phone, but mostly listened, seeming content and quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the song faded out and the next track began to play, Chenle glanced at Jisung, about to suggest that they do some proper singing before calling it a night and starting their homework. Jisung was looking back, dark eyes glimmering. “Do you believe in soulmates? Couples fated to fall in love? Anything like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soulmates?” Chenle repeated with a chuckle. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it, really, I don’t think about that sort of thing very much…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… really?” It was hard to read what Jisung was thinking, especially when his eyes went back to his phone. “You haven’t ever been in love, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love was a complicated subject; it was the type of thing that one could swear up and down they’d experienced, but really, how did </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> know what it was supposed to feel like? The fact that Chenle knew so many adults in unhappy marriages - his parents at the top of the list - made him feel confident that a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of people didn’t know right off the bat what “love” meant. It was a game of trial and error, and so far, Chenle hadn’t experienced anything of it, not even a kiss. “I don’t think so. Have you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was fully silent. One, two, three seconds - Chenle let himself drift off into the music behind him for a moment before Jisung’s answer brought him back: “Maybe."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Maybe? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oooh!" Chenle smirked, nudging Jisung's shoulder affectionately with his hand as he sat up. "I feel like that's more of a yes-maybe than a maybe-maybe. Aren't you going to share the details with your best friend?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I never said it was a yes-maybe. Quit putting words in my mouth."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, some of the girls in our class can't seem to keep from staring at you. Do you know Min Ahreum? Jaemin said she was asking him what kind of girl you like…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez. Girls are so weird.” Jisung ran his fingers through his hair again, extending a hand to Chenle. “Help me up. I’m gonna sing you a song that’s so beautiful, you’re gonna cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, undoubtedly.” Chenle grinned, twining his fingers with Jisung to help yank him up from the floor. Jisung scrambled for his phone, chattering on about trying a different song for his next audition, and Chenle was distracted enough that he didn’t give much more thought to soulmates or the mysteries of being in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was far too easy to lose track of time in that practice room with no clock, especially with the music going. It was March, time for midterms, and yet Chenle felt further from his academics than ever, especially since early that Monday when he’d woken up to an email notification on his phone: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Zhong Chenle, RBW Entertainment is pleased to inform you that you have passed the initial round of our audition process. We would like to invite you to meet with our company executives for an interview. Please note that this email does not represent any commitment or contract, only that we are interested in exploring your potential within our agency...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d read the email about a million times, though he hadn’t shown it to Jisung. Was he silly for wanting to hold out, for thinking that he might even be good enough for SM? Trainees started one place and transferred to another all the time, didn’t they? One thing was for certain: he couldn’t tell Jisung until he had figured out how to handle it, but maybe it would be enough to convince his parents that his career was going somewhere. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm still a minor. I'm sure I can't sign a contract without them, anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One more year. Let me stay one more year. That will give me enough time to figure out what to do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Friday, and though it was late when they left practice, the weather was beginning to get warm. It brought up Chenle’s mood, but it didn’t seem to do much for Jisung. He’d been quiet for the last few days - abnormal for the boy who normally couldn’t shut up when it was just the two of them. Chenle had pressed a couple of times toward the end of practice, asking if he was feeling sick perhaps, but Jisung only shook his head and insisted that he was just nervous for the audition they had coming that weekend.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>After eating a quick dinner (and getting scolded by Sooyoung for not coming home to eat until nearly 10 PM), Chenle excused himself to go shower. It was one of the few moments that he got alone, in that tiny apartment, yet part of him was hoping for Jisung to pound on the door and barge in to brush his teeth or wash his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I’ve been acting weird, too. Maybe he can tell I’m keeping something from him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chenle wasn’t sure if telling Jisung about passing his first-round audition would make things better or worse, and thinking about all the possibilities only gave him a headache. This was what he’d wanted, what he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>dreamed</span>
  </em>
  <span> of, but it had been a long time since he’d dreamed of getting there </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He stayed under the spray until the hot water began to falter, and stepped out with reluctance to dry himself off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Chenle slipped across the hall to Jisung’s room, he was surprised to find the light already off: pure darkness, not even cut by Jisung’s phone light. It was rare for him to sleep before midnight, and when Chenle turned on the small desk lamp so he could see a bit, he noticed that Jisung hadn’t even bothered to get himself under the covers on the bed. His back was to Chenle, curled up as usual into a fetal position, and the light didn’t even make him turn his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you don’t need anything? You’re being really weird tonight,” Chenle remarked quietly, hurriedly moisturizing his clean skin and running a brush through his still- damp hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. I’m fine. I just need to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay to talk, you know. I’m your best friend. I’ll listen.” It was a mighty hypocritical thing for Chenle to say, considering the layers upon layers of secrets that he was keeping from Jisung. But remembering how tightly Jisung had held him when he got back, letting him cry without judgment, it made Chenle want to be there for Jisung all the more. “Do you want me to sleep next to you? It’s still cold enough for that, I think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung turned his head finally, enough to glance back at Chenle. “If you want to. You don’t have to. I don’t really care either way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Liar,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Chenle teased quietly, grabbing the pillow and blanket from his own bed. “You sleep in my bed when I’m not even here! It’s because I’m the best cuddler that there is.” He hoped he sounded more lighthearted than he felt; there was a heavy feeling in the air as he draped the blanket over Jisung’s body and slipped underneath it beside him. Usually, they slept back-to-back (though he almost always woke up with Jisung clinging tight to him in sleep), but this time Chenle could sense the need for closeness. A tentative arm wrapped around Jisung’s waist, loose enough for him push it away if he wanted to - but he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All was quiet for a few minutes; the only sounds were those of Mouse getting comfortable in his usual spot. Jisung was so still, it was hard to even feel his breathing. Chenle was cozy, but Jisung’s mood still had him uneasy, and he was wondering whether or not to say anything else when Jisung maneuvered onto his back beside him, making it easier for him to look at Chenle in the dark. “Wanna know what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s why I asked like five times.” Chenle tried not to sound unnerved. Even in the dark, he could make out Jisung’s eyes, Jisung’s lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s handsome up close.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It seemed like a stupid thing to think - Jisung was handsome </span>
  <em>
    <span>period</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Chenle knew this was an objective truth - and he tried to ignore the musings of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m wondering what you’d do if I kissed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The simple admission was all it took to knock all the other thoughts out of Chenle’s head. There had been precious few girls that he’d thought about kissing in his seventeen years, and never once had kissing a boy crossed his mind. Kissing Jisung? It was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bizarre</span>
  </em>
  <span> possibility. Jisung was not only a boy, not only his best friend, but he was so far out of Chenle’s league that it wasn’t funny. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But he makes me feel good. He might be one of the only people on this planet that sees any good in me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The butterflies in his stomach, out of nowhere, were whipping up gale-force winds, and it felt like his mind was giving him a busy signal. No answer. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s fingertips ghosted along the side of Chenle’s jaw, just for a heartbeat - like he wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure just how to. The delicacy of it made Chenle feel suddenly, inexplicably weak. “You wouldn’t be creeped out?” he prodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” How was he </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know? Part of him wanted to tell Jisung to just do it already, so he could find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t want to stop being friends, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a question Chenle actually had an answer for. “Never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s fingers landed on his cheek and stayed there this time. His lips turned up into the faintest smile, and Chenle wondered if he could feel how his heart was racing. The tips of their noses bumped together, Chenle had to close his eyes or risk exploding from the anticipation and embarrassment - and then, at last, their lips pressed together and nothing else in the world seemed to matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle had spent so much of his life wondering why people were obsessed with kissing, and even feeling it for himself, he still didn’t have the words to explain it. It wasn’t much of </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, really, just a half-second of their lips pressed together, but there was something about the touch that made him feel warm and soft and </span>
  <em>
    <span>full</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way that was completely new. When Jisung pulled away, nervous eyes searching Chenle’s face in the dark, it felt like he’d taken something away that Chenle hadn't realized he'd needed. Without hesitation, Chenle tightened his arm around Jisung’s waist and kissed him again, feeling him tremble softly in his grasp. This time, the kiss lingered, might have gone on forever if not for Jisung pulling back again with a tiny sob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much, hyung, and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrifies </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” Chenle felt dazed, like language was a concept just coming back to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I just want to keep kissing you. I don’t want this moment to stop.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I don’t understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t know what you’d see in me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything,” Jisung exhaled shakily, closing his eyes. “I can’t even explain it. Nobody makes me happy like you do. Nobody makes me feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> like you do. I’ve liked guys before, but nothing like this, nothing like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle smiled automatically, feeling a thrill that went all the way down to his toes. “I’ve never liked anyone before. Or dated, or… </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissed</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” It was so flustering to say aloud - he probably sounded like such a child - but he admitted a moment later, “I didn’t know what to call this feeling before, but I think I like you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung wound his arms around Chenle’s shoulders and nuzzled sweetly against his cheek, turning his insides to goo in one single motion. “I can’t believe I’ve been stressing about this for weeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Months.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He chuckled softly. “Will you be my boyfriend, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span> hit hard. It was a word that offered no room for misunderstanding, no looking back. Things would never be the same if Chenle said yes, for better or worse. His thoughts were racing, spiked with anxiety - so he closed his eyes and let his instinct answer for him. His lips were clumsy in the dark, nearly missing their target; Jisung grinned into the kiss, which made Chenle grin too, and moments later they were both laughing and struggling to keep their voices down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle knew exactly what Jisung meant: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody makes me happy like you do.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nobody made him feel like Jisung, either. Not even his favorite pieces of music could make him feel like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle thought that being together would change everything, but really so much stayed the same that it was uncanny. They still hung out with their friends together, joking and teasing each other just as they always had. They still practiced in the studio and did homework in Jisung's room, with Chenle sitting at the desk while Jisung sprawled out on the floor with his laptop. Jisung still barely spoke formally to Chenle, and Chenle still scolded him for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind closed doors however, they were quickly becoming comfortable with affection, kisses and cuddles and sappy lines out of nowhere. Chenle discovered remarkably sound strategy in shutting down Jisung’s bratty remarks with kisses, while Jisung had made a game out of making Chenle blush with one-liners and pet names. (And if that wasn’t bad enough, Jisung had settled on calling him </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby</span>
  </em>
  <span> non-ironically, and it was so stupid that it reflexively made Chenle’s heart soar every time he heard it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung, come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your mom just messaged you. She wants us to come eat dinner.” It was nearing 8 PM, and Sooyoung never liked them down in the practice room too late. Chenle could never go for as long as Jisung could, especially when it came to dancing - he’d been sitting back and watching for the past few minutes, but Jisung’s energy seemed endless. It was amazing, how much time he could spend perfecting the tiniest details of his dance.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. Just let me try this part one more time. I almost got it!” Jisung insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle rolled his eyes. “You can get it tomorrow! We still both have papers to write, did you forget? It’ll be a late night as it is.” When Jisung didn’t respond, starting the music back up again, Chenle huffed and raised his voice: “If you don’t listen to me, I’m gonna sleep in my own bed tonight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair! That’s coercion! You can’t hold stuff like that over me!” Jisung whined, but just as Chenle had hoped, the music went back on pause. “That’s so mean and manipulative. You should be ashamed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally for your own good.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’d waste away down here if I didn’t remind you to eat and sleep.” When he could see that Jisung really was packing up his things to follow him, he shouldered his backpack and began to help his boyfriend gather his belongings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I can’t be without you,” Jisung replied innocuously, though he looked up at Chenle with a teasing little grin. “You gotta take me back to China with you this summer. I’m getting really flexible, I think I can crunch myself small enough to fit in your suitcase.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle forced a laugh. “Yeah… it’ll be a long summer apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do your parents really want to keep you there?” Jisung asked softly. It was the first they’d talked about it in ages, and hearing Jisung say it felt like a vice clamp was tightening on Chenle’s chest. “Not to be dramatic, but… I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> be heartbroken, hyung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They— they have arrangements made for me to transfer to a school there,” Chenle admitted after a moment’s silence, avoiding Jisung’s eyes as he led the way out the door. Truthfully, his mother hadn’t kept him informed, but he already knew it was true. She wasn’t the type to back down on promises. “But I still have an ace - that email from RBW.” He’d showed Jisung days ago. He’d felt beyond guilty, keeping it even as long as he did, and he was thankful that Jisung didn’t ask him </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Since I’m a minor, I can’t sign a contract without my parents, but I’m hoping my mom will agree to talk to them. If I come back, it might be as a trainee, but—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you still live at my house? Or will everything be different?” Jisung asked softly, and when Chenle dared to look back at him, his eyes were wide and shiny with the beginnings of tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really know. Stop— stop making that face, please? Stop being sad,” Chenle scolded softly, stopping before the doors to the stairwell and pulling Jisung in for a kiss in the deserted studio hallway. “It’s only April. Anything can happen in two months. We also have my grandmother on our side, don’t forget! My mom pretty much always bends to her will. Whatever happens, whatever I have to do, this isn’t the end of </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jisung. I promise you that.” His arms around his waist, he stood with his forehead pressed to Jisung’s and focused on the rhythm of his breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not allowed to disappear on me. If you do, I’ll track you down,” Jisung whispered, his breath quivering softly. His words were joking, but his tone was anything but - sticking in Chenle’s heart like a barbed hook. “I waited long enough to find my </span>
  <em>
    <span>person</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I won’t just—" Jisung was cut off by the angry buzz of his vibrating phone in his jeans. “Shit. That’s gotta be Mom. Let’s hurry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they got home late, Jisung got chewed out for ignoring his mother's texts, and as Chenle had correctly predicted, their history papers were slow going. It was past midnight when he finally climbed into Jisung’s bed and pressed his face comfortably into the curve of his neck. Their limbs knew just how to fit together, and Jisung voiced the thought that Chenle was so shyly thinking: “You’re the perfect size for me to hold, you know that? Stop being salty about being short! You were just specially designed to fit in my arms!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that’s sappy even for you. Quit it.” Chenle grinned even as he said it. Without sight to aid him, Chenle landed a kiss on his lips - his aim was getting better every time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I waited long enough to find my person</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was something silly and sweet that Jisung had said in the moment, but there was something to it that made Chenle feel sentimental. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My person. Maybe we only get one. This could be it for me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought made him want to hold onto Jisung tighter, to dig in his claws and never let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Spoke with your mother about your audition. You might not know this, but she’s very proud of you! I think I’m softening her up for good news! Don’t stress, keep working hard, make sure you and your Jisung are well. You still need to keep up your promise - I want to meet him someday.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The email from Chenle’s grandmother caught him by surprise: forwarding her his letter from RBW seemed like a shot in the dark when he didn’t know if she even </span>
  <em>
    <span>checked</span>
  </em>
  <span> her email regularly, but by the grace of some benevolent higher power, she got back to him within three days. She wrote with the same reassuring voice that she spoke with, and seeing </span>
  <em>
    <span>“your Jisung”</span>
  </em>
  <span> brought a smile to his face. She didn’t know how apt she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle tucked his phone away and tried to quell his emotion by fanning the tears out of his eyes. He’d been doing his very best to stay positive, letting Jisung know that there was nothing to worry about. Besides, worrying would only bog down his practice, and he felt like he needed to throw his entire mind into </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shutting his school uniform in his locker, he hurried to meet Jisung in their usual practice room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the door, about to apologize for taking so long, but he stopped immediately in his tracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I could make it better, I could hold you tighter / </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>On that distant path, you’re the light.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle truly couldn’t believe that Jisung didn’t like his own voice. With careful training, it had become a thing of beauty - deep and husky and sultry on the low notes, with a delicate but strong falsetto. Chenle recognized the song at once; BTS’ new album had worked its way onto Jisung’s most-streamed albums, and Chenle was certain he’d told his boyfriend that “Make It Right” was his favorite track of the bunch. The thought made him swoon. Maybe he wasn’t, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Jisung was singing a love song just for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t about to interrupt. He wanted to feel every note, burn them to memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“When the night seemed never-ending, you gifted me with morning / </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Now, can I hold your hand? </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I can make it right…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle didn’t know that he was crying until Jisung’s note was cut short, and Chenle felt a sudden stab of humiliation while he rubbed the tears out of his eyes. A second later, a gentle hand prompted Chenle to tilt his head back, and he trembled when he felt Jisung’s lips kissing away the tears on his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No tears. You’ll make me cry,” Jisung scolded softly, his breath tickling Chenle’s lips. “Unless these are happy tears. Oh shit, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>, are they happy tears?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y-You're not supposed to be better than me! It's not allowed!" Chenle sniffled, feeling flustered but also weirdly endeared by Jisung's doting. And maybe the endearment was winning out. He'd maintained his dignity in the relationship for long enough - suddenly, he wanted nothing more than for Jisung to take care of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm trying not to be! I can't help it!" Jisung's cheeky answer endeared him even more. Chenle couldn't help but laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe I'll forgive you if you sing me the rest of the song." Chenle stole a quick kiss and snuggled in against Jisung, putting practice out of his mind while he listened to what would become his favorite song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving Korea again felt like a dream. Chenle woke up with his head fuzzy and numb, leaving the warmth of Jisung’s arms only when Sooyoung stuck her head in the door and called for them both to get a move on. “You’ll miss your flight! This is why I tell you boys that you shouldn’t stay up too late. You always have trouble waking up on time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. That’s totally it,” Jisung mumbled, pressing a sleepy kiss against Chenle’s jaw before loosening his hold on him. “Well, guess it’s time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were both quiet in the car: Chenle trying not to think about anything, Jisung anxiously fiddling with his phone, locking and unlocking the screen aimlessly. It was making Chenle nervous himself, and he took Jisung’s hands to quiet them, squeezing tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to go forever,” Jisung mumbled, suddenly sounding so much less confident than he always appeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not forever. I don’t know when I’ll come back, but I promise I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Jisung blinked hard, a telltale sign of tears, but his lips twitched up into the smallest of smiles when his eyes met Chenle’s. “We keep taking turns being sad about this, and it sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, at least we’re not both sad at the same time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> would suck.” It was kind of a lie - Chenle was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terribly</span>
  </em>
  <span> sad - but lying about it made him feel minutely better. It made Jisung chuckle, too, and a bittersweet surge of affection bloomed in his chest, both beautiful and painful. At the core of their relationship, Jisung was still his very best friend; little moments like this made him remember that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally at the airport, Chenle bid goodbye to Jisung’s parents, while Jisung popped the trunk to gather all of Chenle’s bags. He had all his belongings this time (telling in its own way) which meant that he needed to check some of his suitcases, and Jisung trailed behind to help him carry everything in one go. Suddenly, for all the warm feelings he’d had just moments ago, Chenle felt as though he had nothing to say, nothing to properly cap things off until next time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t cry. If you cry, Jisung cries.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He couldn’t have that be his last memory of him until they met again. He was racking his brain so vigorously for the right words that he was caught by surprise when Jisung took his hand and commanded his attention again. “Message me every day, okay? At least let me know that you’re alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. I can promise at least that much.” His face flushed as he pulled Jisung into a reassuring hug, and he added, “If my parents won’t let me come back for school, I’ll be sure to visit. Or— I’ll fly you out to spend some time with me and my grandmother in the countryside.” The thought was a comforting one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. I already can’t wait.” Jisung pulled back from the hug with reluctance, and Chenle took the cue to let go - but then Jisung’s fingers caught Chenle’s wrists, shamelessly yanking him close for a kiss that felt like it was straight out of a drama. People passed them on either side - Chenle could sense that some of them were stepping wide to avoid them, maybe out of disgust, but he no longer cared. It was a fantastic send-off, and it left Chenle’s head feeling fuzzy for a whole new reason, like it was full of champagne bubbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung pulled back with a flush as though he were surprised by himself, biting nervously on his bottom lip. “Wow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah. Agreed…” Chenle laughed, suddenly feeling incredibly dorky, standing there in the middle of the airport and staring into his boyfriend’s eyes like a fool. “All right. Go before your mom comes looking for you! I’ll text you as soon as my plane lands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the hardest thing that Chenle could recall, letting go of Jisung’s hands proceeding to the security line by himself. He had to squeeze his eyes shut and convince himself not to look back - he wanted to preserve that final moment as his parting memory, the perfection of Jisung’s lips on his. If that was his last kiss ever, well, he’d be okay with that.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Year 3, Semester 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Unlisted song credit-- "All My Loving" by the Beatles :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Home” was falling apart.</p><p>Not that Chenle had ever felt particularly safe or welcome there. But at least in the past, he could find respite from the chaos in his bedroom, listening to music and studying. When he wasn’t around to fuck everything up, his parents could sulk in quiet anger. But his going to Korea and coming back seemed to turn the peaceful dynamic on its head, and suddenly his parents were yelling at each other as much as yelling at him. Even with headphones on and EXO playing, he could hear the occasional slammed door downstairs.</p><p><em> [10:11 PM] Jisung: </em> 😘<br/><em> [10:12 PM] Jisung: did you talk to your parents?<br/></em> <em> [10:22 PM] Jisung: baby </em> 🙁 <em> i don’t like how quiet you’re being tonight<br/></em> <em> [10:28 PM] Chenle: Sorry, one second </em></p><p>Chenle stood from his bed and made his way to his bedroom door, opening it up enough to stand out in the dark hallway. They were downstairs in the parlor, from the sounds of it, and his mother’s voice carried unfailingly up the stairs. <em> “You can’t just chase our only child away. Do you know how much work I put into raising him? We’re not kicking him out. You’re not wasting all that I’ve done.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “I didn’t kick him out! I told him that he can go to school here or he can find his own damn way to Korea! If he wants to throw his fuckin’ life away, it’s not going to be with my money!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your money? I make twice what you do! Don’t make me laugh!” </em>
</p><p>A glass shattered. Chenle winced. Any other teenage boy might have been tempted to intervene, or at least would have been more disturbed by his parents going at each other’s throats, but he still hurt all over from the fight that had started it all. He pressed his tongue habitually against his split lip as he slipped back into his room, finding a cruel sort of satisfaction in the pain that he could make himself feel.</p><p>It had been a long time since he’d felt this way. He was thirteen all over again, powerless and so scared. No confidence in himself or anyone around him. Unloved. His laptop was his respite, but this time for a whole different reason.</p><p><em> [10:28 PM] Jisung: okay bb<br/></em> <em> [10:30 PM] Jisung: can we video chat? i miss your voice<br/></em> <em> [10:33 PM] Chenle: I can’t tonight. It’s been a rough day. I look shitty.<br/></em> <em> [10:34 PM] Jisung: yeah i practiced all evening and still haven’t showered. i look like a greaseball. we can be ugly together.<br/></em> <em> [10:35 PM] Chenle: Hahaha as appealing as that sounds…<br/></em> <em> [10:35 PM] Jisung: :((( please i just wanna hear your voice before i sleep<br/></em> <em> [10:36 PM] Chenle: Okay. Just a quick one though. </em></p><p>When the video call window popped up, Jisung’s camera was already on, and Chenle could see that his boyfriend was <em> not </em> lying to make him feel better: his hair really was a dirty mess, and he was pale and tired looking. If Chenle had to guess, he wasn’t taking care of himself quite as well without him around.</p><p>Immediately, Jisung pouted, running his fingers through his wild hair. “Hyung, that’s so mean! At least turn the camera on for just a second! I just wanna see you!”</p><p>“I thought you just wanted to hear my voice,” Chenle corrected with a chuckle. Another slam from downstairs; if Jisung could hear, he didn’t indicate it.</p><p>“I wanna see you! Just for a little bit!” Jisung’s lower lip nudged out a little more.</p><p>This always made Chenle uncomfortable, when he had to navigate between the two worlds of his existence. Not only could he not bring himself to let Jisung visit his parents, he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to let his bruised face be shown on cam.</p><p>“It really isn’t a good night, Jisung… later, okay? Maybe tomorrow?”</p><p>“Did something go bad with your parents?”</p><p>Chenle closed his eyes. It had been his plan to plead his case, to show his parents that he had passed an audition, that he had a chance. And when that hadn’t worked, when his mother had laughed in his face like the result of all his hard work meant <em> nothing </em> , Chenle had said the words that damned him: “I won’t stay here. I’ll go back, one way or another.” It had felt so good to stand up for himself, until his mother slapped him hard enough to knock him backwards. This time, it was his mother who once again cared enough to put her hands on him— a rarity. His father’s solution, upon coming home and seeing the aftermath of the fight, was to tell him that he didn’t care if he stayed or went. <em> “But if you go, don’t you dare come back.” </em></p><p>“I might have figured out how to come back,” Chenle dodged the question after a moment’s silence. “My grandmother said that she would pay my tuition. The thing is… I don’t know if I’ll be welcome back if I go. My mother refused the offer from RBW on my behalf, so I may have to get a part time job so I can give your parents some money...”</p><p>“What?” Jisung’s response was sharp with emotion. “Hyung, don’t worry about that! I don’t think my parents will mind. They love you! Besides, my dad was just telling me today that I’m a mess without you here!” He frowned, voice lowering a bit as though conscious of being overheard through his bedroom walls. “And you’re a mess when you’re not here. I don’t think it’s good for you. You always come back… different.”</p><p>“I know. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be sorry! Just… just <em> come back </em> and keep being my boyfriend. I really fucking miss you.”</p><p>“I really fucking miss you, too.” Chenle sighed, closing his weary eyes for a moment and settling back against his pillows. If he was leaving home, it was probably best to do it sooner rather than later, and he knew there were plans to be made. But he was <em> so </em> damn tired, and Jisung’s voice was making his tense, sore body relax all at once.</p><p>“Let me see you,” Jisung requested again, his voice small. “Just for a few seconds. Just to show me that you’re okay.”</p><p>Chenle went quiet. How long could he keep lying for? Jisung wasn’t stupid. He’d more than demonstrated that. “I can’t right now. I’m sorry. I can’t.”</p><p>“Why not?!” Jisung’s voice raised in anger; just slightly, but more than Chenle had ever seen before. “You’re making me worry. Chenle, <em> please </em>.”</p><p>“Because I look like shit. I <em> feel </em> like shit. I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m— I’m <em> not </em> okay, and I would be humiliated if you saw me this way.” Jisung couldn’t see him, but Chenle still found himself hurrying to wipe his tears. “Please don’t yell at me. I can’t take tonight of all nights being our first fight. I need someone on my side.”</p><p>They’d never had any sort of real argument, and Chenle wasn’t sure how things would go. To his relief, Jisung immediately conceded, lowering his head and covering his eyes with his hands. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to. I’m a little freaked out. I know that’s no excuse, I’m just…” <em> He’s crying </em>. Chenle had to swallow his own tears, his throat tightening painfully. There was nothing worse than the feeling of making his boyfriend cry when he could do nothing to stop it. For once, he wanted to be the brave one. He took a deep breath, forced his voice steady.</p><p>“It won’t do us any good to panic or beat ourselves up. Do you hear me, Park Jisung? Be nice to my boyfriend over there, or we’ll have words when I come back to Korea.” It wasn’t the easiest thing, to convince Jisung that he was well enough to joke; he had to reel it in a little bit, or Jisung would surely know. “How about I sing you a song? I’ve been listening to a lot of English music lately.”</p><p>Unlike Chenle, who didn’t cry easily and always hid his tears, Jisung had no shame as he wiped his cheeks with his sleeves. His dark eyes shimmered, his shoulders shook; Chenle felt a deep, dull pain in his chest with his impossible urge to hug him tight. <em> I wonder if this is love. </em> The thought hit him out of nowhere, and the fear and excitement of it sent a shiver down his spine. “Yeah, sing for me. I miss your voice,” Jisung agreed, begrudgingly.</p><p>Downstairs, his parents had quieted - most likely, his father had stormed out for the bar, and his mother was drowning her anger in wine. But none of that mattered for the moment, nothing mattered except for Jisung and his eyes and his pink lips quivering and <em> shit, I really think he’s the one. </em> The moment was so compelling, he nearly forgot that he was now obligated to sing.</p><p><em> “Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you, re</em><em>member I’ll always be true.<br/></em> <em> And then while I’m away, I’ll write home every day, </em> <em> And I’ll send all my loving to you. </em></p><p><em> I’ll pretend that I’m kissing the lips I am missing, a</em><em>nd hope that my dreams will come true.<br/></em> <em> And then while I’m away, I’ll write home everyday, a</em><em>nd I’ll send all my loving to you.” </em></p><p>//</p><p>The next couple days were tense. His parents argued like crazy and acted like he couldn’t hear it. His mother was somehow both cold and doting, insisting on him icing the bruises on his face - perhaps it was guilt, he reasoned, something she was never faced with when his father did the dirty work. His father was home less than ever before. School was not discussed, but it wasn’t hard to find out details: his parents both worked all day, and it was as simple as going through the mail in his mother’s home office. She was sending him back to the international school he’d gone to all his life, except this time, she had paperwork to admit him into the dormitories.</p><p>He was glad he was alone when he discovered this. She planned on ripping him away from Jisung, just to throw him into boarding school and be rid of him? That wouldn’t happen. That made up his mind for him. From his mother’s own desk phone, he called his grandmother, relaying his plan and hoping she’d say yes.</p><p>The next morning, his grandmother called his mother before her workday began and asked if Chenle would like to spend his summer break with her. As suspected, his mother was as happy to have him home as he was to <em> be </em> home, because that afternoon, he was packing up his things and heading for the train station.</p><p>From there, it was nothing. The economy-class plane ticket he’d bought with his mother’s credit card was so inconsequentially cheap that she (or more likely, her accountant) never even realized it was there. He stayed with his grandmother for a little over a week - it felt so safe and nostalgic to be there, he couldn’t help it. He made up for it by messaging Jisung every morning and night, and as soon as his busted lip looked well enough, he sent his boyfriend a bunch of cute selfies, just to ease his mind.ou</p><p>When he left, the details were still fuzzy. Jisung insisted that his parents would support Chenle financially if he needed it, and his grandmother promised to handle things with his parents and abate their anger. <em> “ </em>These people in Seoul who are being so good to you, this boy— they sound like family. Maybe even more than your mother and your good-for-nothing father.” It was the first time he’d ever heard her say anything like that, and her savage sort of smirk made him laugh until he nearly cried. “Don’t worry. If they try to make you come back, I’ll take a trip of my own to Shanghai and give her a stern talking to. I don’t think she has her priorities in order, I don’t think she’s thought about what a selfish thing she’s trying to do. But one thing I can say for her, at least, is that she still listens to her mother.”</p><p><em> [1:03 AM] Jisung: tomorrow??<br/></em> <em> [1:03 AM] Chenle: Tomorrow!!! Well yeah technically today since it’s 1 AM. My plane departs in 9 hours </em> 😁<br/><em> [1:03 AM] Chenle: Wow what are you still doing up<br/></em> <em> [1:04 AM] Jisung: WOW WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING UP???? i’m just innocently messaging my boyfriend before bed, you’re the weirdo who happened to be awake to answer<br/></em> <em> [1:05 AM] Chenle: you’re so aggressive tonight jfc<br/></em> <em> [1:06 AM] Jisung: i’m having withdrawals from kissing you, that’s all </em> 💋<br/><em> [1:06 AM] Chenle: I’m going to kiss you so much just wait<br/></em> <em> [1:06 AM] Jisung: i’m going to kiss your lips off<br/></em> <em> [1:07 AM] Chenle: WHY are you like this<br/></em> <em> [1:07 AM] Jisung: </em>💕💕💕</p><p>//</p><p>Chenle and Jisung had met so many times at the airport that formalities no longer seemed necessary. In fact, he’d barely made it into the airport when he heard Jisung’s voice, skipping all the polite stuff. <em> “Chenle hyung!” </em></p><p>This was the moment he’d been aching for for weeks. He looked at once in the direction of the voice, found Jisung quickly (he was so tall and modelesque that it fucking <em> hurt </em>), and hurried for him without reservation. The rest of the crowd might as well have not even been there. His arms went around Jisung’s strong shoulders, he pressed his face into his boyfriend’s neck and breathed in deeply, eager to be reminded of all the things he’d been missing--</p><p>“Welcome back!” Sooyoung’s cheerful voice came in from behind them and made both of them self-consciously pull back from each other. “We were glad when we heard you were coming back early! How was your vacation? Everything good?”</p><p>Chenle managed a smile despite a little stab of disappointment. He’d really been looking forward to a part two of their romantic send-off kiss from the beginning of the summer, not that Sooyoung had any way of knowing that. “It was fine! I’m really glad to be back… <em> really </em> glad. I always spend vacation with my grandmother, she lives outside of the city on this little farm… really, nothing to do.” When in doubt, <em> talk </em>. It seemed to be the best strategy with Jisung’s parents.</p><p>“Well, then, let’s grab lunch somewhere on the way home?” Sooyoung suggested, nudging Jisung as she added teasingly, “Aren’t you watching for his bags? Be a good host. Poor Chenle is probably tired.”</p><p>Chenle chuckled, giving Jisung’s hand a discreet squeeze. “No way. Being here gives me energy.”</p><p>“Well, I hope that energy is contagious! Jisung has been moping around the house since you left,” Sooyoung responded easily, oblivious to how the air between Chenle and Jisung, how they could only look at each other. “I’ve never seen Jisung miss more days in the studio than he did this summer. His father was so tired of seeing him laying on the couch, he was considering making him get a summer job.”</p><p>“Ugh. <em> Mom </em> .” Jisung rolled his eyes, casting a helpless glance Chenle’s way. There was so much that needed to be said, so much that needed to be asked, and more than that— Chenle had been promised that his lips would be kissed off, and so far he hadn’t received so much as a peck. <em> I’m sorry, </em> Jisung mouthed, shrugging.</p><p>Sooyoung was with them on the way out of the airport, in the hot car (holding hands while dripping sweat was torturous, but Chenle would <em> not </em> give in), and then in the diner where they stopped for lunch. It was frustrating, not getting a moment alone, but Chenle was so euphoric to be back that he really couldn’t pout about it for long. Soon he was laughing along with Sooyoung while Jisung recounted his recent trip to Lotte World with Jeno and Jaemin, during which he was bullied into going on the Atlantis coaster.</p><p>“All I can say is, I’m glad I sat in the back of the cart. I’m <em> pretty </em> sure all my barf blew backwards.”</p><p>“Oh my god, I’m <em> so </em>glad I wasn’t there.” Chenle laughed, wrinkling his nose in disgust.</p><p>“Luckily, Jeno’s boyfriend is a scaredy cat, too. He stayed and loitered with me beneath all the terrifying rides.” Jisung said the words pointedly, looking to his mother for reaction. “Did I mention? Jeno hyung is dating now. The guy’s name is Renjun, and he just graduated from SOPA.”</p><p>“Really? How nice.” Sooyoung’s reaction was hard to gauge - mainly because she tended to react positively to Jisung, no matter what. “I’m so glad you blossomed this year, you know! You’ve made a lot of friends. I think having Chenle here gave you some confidence!”</p><p>Jisung blushed, tried to deny, but Chenle grinned as he nudged him under the table. “Happy to help!” he teased. Jisung’s pout was worth the extra kissless minutes they cost.</p><p>The car ride back to the house felt endless, and as soon as they were parked outside, Jisung was out of the car and offering to carry Chenle’s suitcases upstairs. Chenle laughed as he followed quickly behind, and at the familiar sight of their bedroom, he felt the anxiety of the unknown melt away behind him. He’d been eager to talk, to catch up, to reassure each other that this was just as <em> real </em> as it had been at the end of June - but finally alone, all he could think about was kissing.</p><p>“You have <em> no </em> idea how much I fucking missed you,” Jisung whispered, dropping Chenle’s things unceremoniously on the ground and cupping his boyfriend’s face in his hands. The intimacy of it made Chenle’s heart leap in his chest.</p><p>“Couldn’t possibly be as much as <em> I </em> fucking missed <em> you </em>.” Chenle replied lamely, unable to keep from smiling like a fool. “You’re all I think about when we’re apart. It actually drives me crazy. I—”</p><p>“Jisung, I almost forgot—” Sooyoung’s voice broke into the moment, a second before the door swung open without warning and nearly hit him. Understandably, seeing them so close with Jisung touching him so tenderly made her pause. “Uhh, what are you two doing…?”</p><p>“Hyung, I can’t see anything if you don’t hold still. Go look for yourself in the mirror.” Jisung released him quickly, looking up at his mother with wide, innocuous eyes. Honestly, Chenle was impressed. “Chenle’s eye was bothering him, so I was trying to see what was up. Probably an eyelash or something. Anyway, sorry, I’m listening. What’s up?”</p><p>It was some completely mundane question about his school uniform sizing (he needed new pants, apparently he was having <em> another </em> growth spurt), but Chenle’s heart was racing and the blood was rushing in his ears as they spoke. There was still the issue of coming out to Jisung’s parents, and even thinking about it exhausted him. <em> It’s almost too hard to stay together. Why are we doing this to ourselves? </em></p><p>Chenle scarcely noticed Sooyoung leaving the bedroom - he was jarred out of his sinking thoughts suddenly by Jisung grabbing his shoulders and pinning him gently against the closed bedroom door. “Let’s just—” He reached for the doorknob, and Chenle felt the secure click of the lock at his back. “In case she tries to come back.”</p><p>Chenle didn’t have time to tell Jisung that his plan was genius, or that he’d been daydreaming about his lips all day. Before he could do more than open his mouth, Jisung kissed him, clumsy but fervent, and Chenle melted into it. It was one of those beautiful kisses that seemed like it would go on forever, and when they were finally driven apart to breathe, it felt like nothing more needed to be said between them.</p><p>//</p><p>
  <em> “I hope you’re happy. Your father is furious— he says he doesn’t have a son anymore. I’m trying to talk him down, he’s being ridiculous.” </em>
</p><p>It took his mother nearly a week to call him, which he was glad for. It gave some time for Jisung to start his healing work, building Chenle back up from the ground. He was right, Chenle never came back from Shanghai quite the same as when he left— but he liked the version of himself that Jisung molded him into. He became a version of Chenle who stood taller, spoke louder, smiled more. One who maybe liked himself a little bit.</p><p>The more the pattern repeated itself, the more Chenle was certain: returning to Shanghai again wasn’t an option. Every blow to his spirit made him worry that his fractures might someday become too deep to fix.</p><p>“Hold on. One second. Let me go outside.” Chenle kept his voice neutral, meeting Jisung’s questioning glance across the homework-covered kitchen table and shrugging. <em> Mom </em>, he mouthed simply, standing up to dismiss himself. He walked through the kitchen, slipping on his shoes by the door, and made his way down the stairs. It was a warm autumn night, the sky painted a dusky purple by the fading sunbeams, and the darkness felt like an omen as he sat on the bottom step and looked out at the empty street. “I’m sorry I made things difficult for you— but you made things difficult for me, too. Can we acknowledge that?”</p><p>
  <em> “Hm. Brave.” </em>
</p><p>“Mom—” It felt strange to even call her that, the word nearly got stuck on his tongue, but the distance gave him confidence to continue: “You hurt me. You <em> beat </em> me. Not just this time, either. You always made me feel worthless for wanting anything in life but perfect grades. I can't just do everything that's expected of me <em>all</em> the time, Mom! <em>Laolao</em> even told you that, and you wouldn't listen!"</p><p><em> "I've done everything for you, and I've made you who you are right now! I've even protected you from your father! Does that mean nothing?" </em> His mother snapped, losing patience as quickly as ever. <em> "You're nearly an adult. You've gotten this far with my support. Your duty as a son is to take all that I've given you and be successful—" </em></p><p>"I'm nearly an adult, so let me make a choice for myself," he insisted firmly. Chenle wouldn't plead anymore, he was done pleading. Physically he was shaking, but his voice was remarkably calm. "I <em> can </em> be successful. I passed my audition. I proved myself. I want to be here.”</p><p><em> “Well, now you might not have a choice. If you come back here, your dad might actually kill you.” </em> Despite having no intentions of going home, the threat made him wince with its cruelty, and Chenle’s mother continued on coldly: <em> “But I’m not going to let the issue drop. Plan on transferring back to Shanghai for the spring semester, at the latest.” </em></p><p>“I can’t do that, Mom.”</p><p>The resulting silence between them was heavy with dread. If Chenle had stood in front of his mother and said such a thing, he almost certainly would have been knocked off his feet, and his body ached in the memory of bruises forgotten to everyone but him. He was glad that he was sitting, because his knees were knocking together and he was sure they wouldn’t be strong enough to hold him.</p><p>
  <em> “That boy, the one that you talked about so much when you first came home. Does he have anything to do with this?” </em>
</p><p>His mother’s voice was thick and angry with venom, hatred towards Jisung— he winced a little, but most of his brainpower was stuck on the weird realization that his mother <em> did </em> listen, at least a little. He didn't think he'd mentioned Jisung to his mother since his very first winter break - of course, she rarely asked about his friends - but he wondered vaguely if he looked different to her since he’d fallen in love. After all, she was a lawyer; paying attention to the details was second nature to her.</p><p>“Yes, he does.”</p><p><em> “Figures.” </em> She sighed, long and exasperated. <em> “There are dozens of reasons why you can’t be with him. I don’t need to list them, do I?” </em></p><p><em> That </em> dug into him, snagged like a bee’s barbed stinger and maybe even injected a little of its own poison. <em> Dozens of reasons. We’re both boys. We’re both going to work in entertainment. He’s Korean and I’m Chinese. I don’t have citizenship here. I’m damaged goods that even my parents don’t really want, except for maybe as a return on their investment. </em></p><p>“No. No, you really don’t.” And with that, voice tight and wavering with tears, Chenle hung up on his mother for the first time in his life. The silence seemed louder than any he could remember, and he closed his eyes as he took a deep breath of the sweet evening air.</p><p>“I was hoping I’d find you here,” Sooyoung’s voice was softer than usual behind him, so as not to startle him, but he jumped anyway and hurried to his feet. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Jisung was just in a little bit of a panic. He said your mother was calling, and he was worried that something might be wrong.” Her mouth twitched into a slight frown. “Is everything all right, Chenle?”</p><p>The question brought a lump to Chenle’s throat that made words impossible for a few seconds, and he swallowed back the beginnings of tears. The truth was, he’d seen mothers like Sooyoung all his life, on television shows, at his friends’ houses, mothers who cared for all the <em> right </em> reasons— usually the sight came with a flash of shameful jealousy, but with her concern now for <em> him </em> like he was her own, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of strength. “I… I don’t get along well with my parents,” he admitted softly, when his voice seemed ready for it. “It was difficult this summer, being home. And I—” He had to stop himself and take a deep breath. Sooyoung put a gentle hand on his back, the gesture simple but powerful. <em> People here care. </em></p><p>“I don’t know if I’ll make another audition. I don’t know if becoming an idol is the most important thing right now. But I know that I have to stay in Korea. I have to figure out how, because going back feels like a…” He knew the word that he wanted, but it felt heavy, and he had to force it out. “...death sentence.”</p><p>A silence stretched out between them, strangely sweet, punctuated with the soft chirp of a cricket from somewhere near their building. Sooyoung took a moment to answer, taking her time with the words in that way she had that made Chenle feel like she <em> really </em> meant them. “There are so many things you can do with your musical knowledge, on the stage or off. Take it from someone who had to say goodbye to performing— I’m not on a stage anymore, but I still get to do what I love every day.” Chenle could hear the smile in her voice, despite his fingers over his eyes, wiping the tears forming. “I’ll get information on extending your visa, okay? I don’t know, myself… but we’re all ready to help you stay, if you want to be here. We’ll help you get into school. Or find work. You can live with us here, just as you have.”</p><p>It seemed daunting for a moment, all the uncertainty looming in front of him like a steep hill. School or work? What kind of work would he be capable of, anyway? Still, the confidence he perceived in Sooyoung’s voice made him feel a little braver, and he nodded. “Okay. Thank you. Really, I promise I’ll repay you for everything you’ve done for me…”</p><p>“I never asked you to,” she replied. Chenle looked at Sooyoung again, just in time to see her smile at her own words, just as Jisung always did when he teased him. “Hey, it’s a nice evening. I’m going to give Jisung some money so he can treat you to ice cream. He’s always either on the couch or in the studio— he’s going to get sick if he doesn’t get some fresh air sooner or later.”</p><p>Chenle was taken aback, but Sooyoung was already on his way back up the stairs before he could think to protest, and he decided to give up with a little laugh. “Sure, I’ll walk him for you!”</p><p>A minute later, Jisung appeared at the top of the stairs, Mouse tucked safely under one arm as he made his way down. The sight instantly tugged up the corners of Chenle’s mouth, and Jisung greeted him with a peck on the lips. “Everything’s good?” he confirmed quietly; his anxiety wasn’t quite settled yet, it was obvious in his eyes, especially as he wiped the remnants of tears from under Chenle’s eyes.</p><p>“It is now,” he said simply, twining his fingers with Jisung’s. Pure, concentrated comfort. Nothing could be better, he thought to himself.</p><p>//</p><p>“Okay, Jisung is <em> totally </em> in love.”</p><p>Jisung was out of earshot, chatting with someone else just in the hallway, but Kai kept his eyes trained carefully on him anyway as he spoke. Normally, Chenle was right there with him, happy to tease and egg on his friends just as much as Kai was (they were kindred spirits), but this time, it took him aback. Next to him, Taehyun chuckled instead.</p><p>“I’ve known Jisung since middle school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him glance twice at a girl,” he retorted easily, opening up his lunchbox.</p><p>“Then you weren’t paying attention! At the end of our math lesson, when the teacher scolded him for looking at the window— he was actually looking at the girl who sits in front of you, hyung.” Kai nudged Chenle’s shoulder. “The transfer student? What’s her name? Jiyoon? Jihyun?”</p><p>The observation made Chenle grin, he couldn’t help it. This was all too funny and too strange, being so involved together when none of their friends at school knew a thing. <em> I wonder if he was staring at me. He’s so weird. He’s so cute. </em> The thought made him blush, and he nearly forgot to answer: “This is why you don't have a girlfriend! Her name is Lee Jiho. She seems cool!”</p><p>Taehyun broke into a grin, reaching over without hesitation to poke Chenle’s reddened cheek. “The plot thickens! You guys like the same girl!” he accused, smirking. “You’ll have to fight Jisung for her love, you know.”</p><p>Chenle’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he looked down discreetly to check his phone screen.</p><p>
  <em> [12:41 PM] Jisung: you look so cute today </em>
</p><p>“What’s up, nerds?” Jisung plopped his bag down beside Chenle’s chair before plopping his body down in the empty seat to his left. Without even opening the lunch box he set on the table, he reached over to snatch a handful of gummy bears from the bag that Taehyun was eating. “What are you all whispering about?”</p><p>“We were just wondering about you and the new girl,” Kai teased with a devious little smirk. “If you’re going to make a move, you might want to do it soon. Chenle might be planning something.”</p><p>“What are you guys talking about?” Jisung deadpanned. “Chenle and I are in love. We have been for <em> years.</em>”</p><p>“Joke all you want, but I’m being serious!”</p><p>“So am I!” Jisung pressed, doing an admirable job of keeping the grin off of his face. “Tell them, Chenle! You love me and you’d never cheat on me, right?”</p><p>Chenle, as per usual, was <em> incapable </em> of keeping a smile off of his face, and his blush made everybody tease him— but he knew that nobody would ever guess that Jisung was telling the honest truth. When nobody was looking, Chenle took the moment to pull out his phone and screenshot Jisung’s text message, never wanting to forget the pure dopamine rush of seeing those words.</p><p>//</p><p>Chenle hadn’t done much of anything to celebrate his birthday in years— since middle school or perhaps earlier. As a child, it had been an easy way for his mother to show off her wealth and her love for him, but at a certain point that was no longer a priority and birthdays were meaningless. It certainly caught him by surprise when Jisung insisted on taking him out for his birthday, and Chenle's skin prickled with nervous excitement at the thought. If you wanted to get technical, this would be their first date.</p><p>Dinner was perfect: Korean barbecue at Chenle's favorite restaurant, followed by vanilla ice cream cones that they ate while walking along the riverside. The November chill permeated Chenle’s thin jacket and made him shiver, and the sight made Jisung brave— he went from clutching Chenle’s hand to timidly wrapping an arm around his waist, walking with their bodies just barely touching. Chenle stiffened for a moment, glancing self-consciously around them for judgmental eyes.</p><p>No one was looking, but they would be. If Jisung had his way, he’d be a star, and everyone would always be looking. It was hard not to think about, and he hugged Jisung back with one arm while he could.</p><p>“Hyung?” Jisung’s voice so close to his ear nearly made Chenle jump. It made him painfully aware of the silence that had enveloped them for so long, and he inwardly winced.</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry, I’m feeling introspective tonight. I’m not trying to be mopey.” Chenle shook his head, managing a smile as he met Jisung’s eyes.</p><p>Jisung blinked in surprise, giving Chenle a little tug on his arm to stop the motion of his feet. “Mopey? What are you talking about?” Jisung smiled, his cheeks flushing, and Chenle was just about to start teasing him when Jisung blurted it out: “I wanted to tell you that I love you, Chenle. That’s all.”</p><p>The word had been tossed around before, but only in jest— <em> “Chenle and I are in love. We have been for years.” “You’ve been practicing this dance break all afternoon— come take a break and love me for a few minutes, I’m getting lonely.” </em> This time, though, the word had a different weight to it, one that momentarily knocked the breath from him. Chenle suddenly wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around Jisung, hold his face in his hands, and demand that he say it again; but frozen with nerves, standing in such a public place with the sunset’s last rays as witness, all he could do was blink back tears and squeeze Jisung tight and choke out, “I love you, too. I wanted to tell you <em> ages </em> ago, you know…”</p><p>“No fair! Don’t steal my thunder!”</p><p>“I don’t care. I love you, Park Jisung.” Chenle bit his trembling lips together, willing himself not to cry and wishing that he could channel all his worry into a kiss, the perfect distraction. Fear and nerves kept him still, and so Jisung was the brave one, leaning down to close the distance between them without a care in the world. If Jisung didn’t care, Chenle couldn’t care, either. There was no uncertain future, no traumatic past, nothing but the cool night breeze, the warmth of Jisung’s lips, and the cloying sweetness of vanilla ice cream that would forever be Chenle’s favorite after that night.</p><p>//</p><p>“Hey. Are you asleep?”</p><p>“Nngh.” Chenle could barely breathe through his nose, which meant he’d spent the day breathing through his mouth while trying to nap, leaving his throat painfully dry. He’d missed dance practice the night before with a headache, and then school that day— he imagined that Jisung was simply dropping in on his way to the studio downstairs, and his heart unwillingly sank in his chest. He didn’t get sick often, but when he did, it was always rough. “No. I can’t sleep. I’ll suffocate.”</p><p>“Poor baby,” Jisung cooed, pushing open the bedroom door carefully with his leg— he carried a small tray in his hands, with a steaming bowl of something that probably smelled savory and delicious, if only Chenle could smell anything at all. “My mom made rice porridge! I mean, I helped. I put some chili flakes in to clear out your nose!”</p><p>Chenle’s stomach growled gratefully, and he scooted up in the bed as much as he could, waiting for Jisung to set the tray aside and dutifully adjust his pillows. It was funny, Jisung probably had the most to lose in catching Chenle’s cold, but he didn’t shy away from him and even slept beside him still. He perched himself on the edge of the bed, pressing his lips for a brief moment against Chenle’s forehead. “No fever. That’s good. You look sweaty, though.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Chenle croaked back dryly, allowing Jisung to set up the tray over his lap. “I think my fever just broke. I can’t decide if I’m hot or cold. I want to take a bath after this.” Still, food took precedence over everything else— he reached for the spoon, surprised when Jisung took ahold of it first. “Hey— I can feed myself!”</p><p>“Let me take care of you, will you?” Jisung pouted, his tone unmistakably scolding (he sounded just like Sooyoung when she told them not to stay up too late studying). He stirred the porridge and blew on the first steaming bite to cool it down, adding, “I tried to get Mom to let me stay home with you, but she told me we couldn’t <em> both </em> miss school. I’m not going to practice, though. I couldn’t leave you like this by yourself…”</p><p>“Yeah, but what if I fall asleep on you?” Chenle whined; he didn’t want to be the reason for Jisung to miss anything, especially not the practice time that he held so dear. So far, the fall semester had brought a handful of auditions, but not a single call-back for either of them. “You don’t have to stay. If I really need you, I’ll give you a call!”</p><p>“Obviously, you haven’t looked in a mirror today, <em> or </em> listened to your own voice. You’re not convincing. Now, are you going to try this or not? It won’t taste as good cold!”</p><p>It had been a long time since Chenle had eaten homemade rice porridge; his grandmother made it the best, or at least that was what his nostalgia said, but Sooyoung’s recipe was a close contender with his stomach so desperately empty. Jisung fed him each bite with painstaking delicacy, dabbing his lips with a napkin to keep his face clean, and Chenle had to laugh at the look of pure concentration on his face. Truly, he couldn’t fault him— he was taking his caretaker role very seriously.</p><p>“Don’t laugh at me!”</p><p>“I can’t help it! I’m trying to find the humor in not being able to breathe or taste anything,” Chenle whined, giving an exaggerated sniffle through his completely clogged sinuses. “This sucks. I can’t even kiss you. I miss kissing almost as much as I miss breathing.”</p><p>“If you think a bunch of germs are gonna keep me from kissing you, you are <em> so </em> wrong.” Jisung grinned devilishly, attacking Chenle’s cheek with a barrage of kisses before he could defend himself.</p><p>“Don’t! I’m seriously so disgusting!” Chenle whined, driving Jisung back with his elbow. “Hey, if you want to win my love, would you go fill the bath tub, so I can soak a little when I’m done eating? I think the steam will help."</p><p>“You got it. I’ll be right back!” Jisung crossed the hall to the bathroom, and Chenle heard the water start running. Without meaning to, he sighed in relief. It wasn’t that he disliked being doted on - in fact, it was quite the opposite - but he didn’t like to see Jisung throw away practice so easily, or make light of the possibility of being sick. Things were changing from their first-year days, when nothing was more important to Jisung than dancing. It was an honor, and yet an honor that came with a cloak of guilt.</p><p>Chenle set aside his tray when he’d eaten, taking a moment to grab a clean set of pajamas on the way to the bathroom. The tub was running hot (Jisung had clearly taken note of how Chenle liked to boil himself alive in the shower) and the water was already full of lavender-scented aromatherapy bubbles, which he couldn’t yet smell but appreciated the thought anyway. Making sure the door was securely closed, he turned off the water and began to undress.</p><p>Of course, the door wasn’t locked— Chenle was used to Jisung barging into the bathroom to brush his teeth, grab whatever he’d accidentally left behind on the counter, or tell him some important fact that couldn’t wait for whatever reason. The difference was that Chenle was usually safely hidden behind the shower curtain or wrapped in a bathrobe. When Jisung opened the door this time, unannounced as always and with a freshly laundered towel in his arms, Chenle was standing right in the middle of the room with his back to the door. His sweatpants were still on, but his t-shirt was crumpled on the floor in front of him, and suddenly, the mess of scars on his back stung like fresh wounds under Jisung’s eyes. He whirled around by instinct, their eyes meeting in stunned silence for a moment, before Chenle’s gaze lowered to the floor.</p><p>“Sorry. I should have knocked. I’m sorry,” Jisung spoke awkwardly, a little louder than he really needed to. He thrust the towel into Chenle’s arms, and Chenle hoped that he was imagining it, the way that Jisung’s dark eyes seemed bright with moisture. “Do you need anything else?”</p><p>“I’m going to be okay, really. I’m going to sleep some after this… You don’t have to stay up here. You can go practice if you want.” Chenle’s voice barely sounded like his own. All he could think of was that he didn’t want to turn away and give Jisung another chance to examine the horror story etched into his skin. “I’ll text you if I want you back. Okay?”</p><p>“Okay. Yeah. That sounds good.” Jisung smiled, and pecked Chenle once more on the cheek, but he seemed meek as he turned his back to leave. Meek— fearful.</p><p>It was exactly what Chenle had been afraid of. Everything that his parents touched <em> changed </em> , and that was why it all had to stay in Shanghai, in the outer reaches of his memories. He should have known that it was only a matter of time before their darkness touched his relationship. Maybe it wouldn’t change things, maybe Jisung would love him just as fiercely, but he would always <em> know </em> . It would always be in the periphery of <em> his </em> thoughts, too.</p><p>Chenle tossed the rest of his clothes to the floor, got in the tub carefully, and let himself soak until the water was no longer warm. The steam had done something for his headache (he had <em> one </em> nostril that he could breathe from), but he still took a long moment after he was dressed, with his face buried in the towel, trying to will his exhaustion to clear his racing brain. Sleep would be <em> so </em> good.</p><p>Jisung hadn’t gone to the studio, though; he was in his bed, still wearing his school uniform, fast asleep. Chenle could picture him slipping into bed and staring at the ceiling with his heart racing, wondering if he’d done or said the right things. <em> I wish I could take that weight off of him. </em> Chenle blinked back tears; sickness be damned, he allowed himself one selfish action, climbing into Jisung’s bed instead of his own and falling mercifully asleep with his arm draped over him, afternoon light still streaming through the window.</p><p>//</p><p>Chenle had come to hate the winter in the years since coming to Korea for the first time. When the weather began to get truly cold, when he and Jisung could see their breath on the way to the bus stop in the morning, Chenle could feel his mood dipping with the temperature. Winter meant Christmas, which meant returning home to Shanghai, which meant two weeks shut away in his bedroom and missing Jisung. He didn't plan on going, but he hadn't <em>exactly</em> figured out how to broach the subject with his family.</p><p>“I hate having to send you home,” Jisung voiced innocuously, his breath tickling Chenle’s neck. In the dark, while they were trying to fall asleep, it was so much easier to say the things that they were scared to. Chenle’s strong feelings always seemed to make Jisung tear up, and Chenle simply couldn’t stand to see Jisung suffering on his account. “It feels empty when you’re not here.”</p><p>“Yeah. I feel the same way.” Chenle answered shortly. He didn’t mention that his mother had messaged him the day before, stating that his father would “allow” him to return home the next week, and that he should bring all his belongings.</p><p>“Can I say something?”</p><p>“You know the answer to that is always yes.”</p><p>Jisung’s arm tightened around Chenle, and he nuzzled him affectionately on the cheek— but his voice was somber, a little apprehensive, as he murmured, “You always come back different. I don’t know how, exactly, but I don’t like it.”</p><p><em> I don’t like it, either. I don’t like keeping secrets. I don’t like making Jisung feel like I don’t trust him. My parents are putting a wedge between us without even having to try. </em> Chenle swallowed with difficulty, his voice trembling as he whispered, “I don’t like it, either.”</p><p>“It makes me miss you even after you’re back. It makes me worry for you. And the worst part is, I don’t know how to help you because I don’t know what’s wrong.”</p><p>Jisung was saying it as gently as possible— <em> talk to me, damn it, I’m your boyfriend. </em> And Chenle <em> wanted </em> to. But the truth would hurt, and that went against all of Chenle’s instincts, to <em> hurt </em> Jisung. Chenle clutched him tighter, too, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.</p><p>“Then how about I stay back this year? We can finally go on a date like Christmas, like we always wanted…”</p><p>“I don’t want you to get in trouble or something,” Jisung argued softly, seeming suddenly a bit concerned, as though he’d said the wrong thing. “Maybe I could go back to China with you? Meet your parents? Maybe that would help me to understand everything.”</p><p><em> And then they’d suck the life out of you, too. </em> The thought made Chenle’s stomach knot. No, Jisung would never meet them, not as long as Chenle could help it. He took a deep breath, setting his resolve. “That’s not a good idea, love. We can stay here. I want to know how your family is on Christmas!”</p><p>Jisung breathed quietly, the rhythm soothing Chenle in the dark. For half a second, Chenle felt like the line of questioning might be over.</p><p>“Hyung… something bad is happening, isn’t it? When you go home?” Jisung’s arm around him was no longer just for comfort; it tightened protectively, as if daring someone to try and rip Chenle out of the bed. A wave of anxious sickness swept over Chenle and left him unable to speak for a long second, eyes trained on the dark ceiling.</p><p>“I can’t say.”</p><p>It wasn’t for the sake of protecting his parents, or the internal turmoil of wondering whether or not he deserved it. He knew that it was wrong, that he should have been able to cry out to Jisung for help, but he couldn’t say it aloud. It was a physical sensation, his throat tightening up and refusing to let him make a sound. <em> This is for you. I’m protecting you, Jisung. </em></p><p>“That’s where the marks on your back came from,” Jisung whispered, as if talking to himself. Hearing him verbally acknowledge the scars on Chenle’s back made him break into a sweat. “And— last year, when you broke your finger…”</p><p>
  <em> “Jisung, stop talking about it.” </em>
</p><p>Chenle never spoke so firmly and bluntly, and his voice even scared him, the way it punched out of his lungs and cut Jisung short. His body shuddered, his chest feeling like it was too tight to breathe; the miserable sob that he heard next didn’t even register as his own. This was it. Jisung was about to realize how broken he was inside, maybe broken beyond fixing. The only thing that felt <em> right </em> was Jisung’s grip on him, unwavering. He didn’t look it, but Chenle was always surprised by how strong his boyfriend was.</p><p>“It’s okay, hyung. Can you hear me? I’m not going to let you go back there. It’s okay.” Jisung was crying, too, Chenle could feel it— and he kept waiting for Jisung to let go of him, but the moment never came. He didn’t ask any more questions, or tell Chenle to stop crying, or even wipe away any tears. He simply held him against his chest, and Chenle clutched him just as tightly.</p><p>The sky could have caved in around them, Chenle realized, and he would never let go. For as long as Jisung held on, so would he, and nothing was more important.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Year 3, Semester 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>And so winter break began. Sooyoung asked Chenle to tell her in advance when he would need a ride to the airport, and Jisung answered for him that Chenle had decided to stay in Korea and keep up with training instead. To Chenle’s surprise (and relief), Sooyoung didn’t seem the least bit surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle’s mother did send him a boarding pass, though, which he tried to ignore along with the anxiety that was clawing at his stomach. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m doing what’s best for me, finally. Who knows what would happen if I went back?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He felt in his heart that he was justified in staying, but that didn’t make him feel any better when his flight departure time came and went while he was holed up in the practice room with Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she called him, finally, he was curled up on the couch with Jisung, with the quiet drone of late-night TV as background noise. Jisung had dozed off nearly an hour ago, his head resting comfortably on Chenle’s thigh while Mouse was curled up on his opposite hip. Chenle was getting tired, though, and he was finding his boyfriend’s sleeping face far more interesting than the music show highlights on the TV screen. It was hard to look at him without bending to his desire to touch; he blushed faintly to himself as he ghosted his fingers over Jisung’s lovely black hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then his phone began to buzz in his pocket, incessant and angry, and at this hour he knew that it could only be one person. His stomach sank, his palms began to sweat, but he answered the phone quickly— it would be easier to say what he needed to say without Jisung waking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you?” His mother demanded without greeting, voice harsh with the force of the bad mood that Chenle had put her in. “It’s getting late. I was hoping we could go meet with the dean of admissions at Concordia tomorrow. Your grades weren’t high enough last semester to get you in by merit alone. We need to go suck up to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom,” Chenle cut her off before she could say any more, and she fell quiet, giving him a chance to say his piece. He swallowed thickly, momentarily frozen with nerves. “I’m not coming home. I’m not transferring schools. And if you make me, then I’ll fight you every step of the way and make it as difficult as I can. I’ll tell everyone about Dad’s drinking, and all the things he’s done to me. I’ll tell everyone what you never stepped in to stop.” Silence again. She was still processing his every word, he knew, and was probably two steps ahead of him. After all, she worked in law— but he knew that this would be a double-edged sword, because as an attorney, her reputation was vital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to pay for you anymore to waste time on this foolish dream, do you understand me?” His mother’s voice, hushed but intense, was far scarier than any of his father’s slurred and incoherent yelling fits. “I’m trying to make a good future for you. I’m fighting against your father </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get you this chance! If you’re going to stay in Korea, then you’ll be completely on your own. I’ll cancel your credit card. Once your visa expires, you’ll have to pay your own way back to China and grovel to my mother for a place to stay.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice as she added, “If you think you’re grown up enough to make these decisions for yourself, you’re welcome to try. But you don’t know anything, Chenle. If you think I’m too harsh with you, just wait until you get out into the real world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can do all of that. I don’t need your money.” Chenle closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of Jisung’s head against his leg as much as he could. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so proud of myself right now. Jisung would be proud.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He took a deep breath, before promising lowly into the phone, “I’m going to be okay without you. In fact, I’d prefer it that way.” Shocked silence met him - he’d said something that his mother didn’t have an immediate answer for - and while he was ahead, before he could break down with the stress of it all, he pressed the “end call” button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room seemed mercifully quiet without his mother’s voice in his ear, and Chenle stared at his phone for a minute longer, taking in the full euphoric effect of what he’d just done. It was terrifying, too, he knew, but he’d be terrified later. For the moment, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with the strange feeling of lightness that came after a cathartic cry, without any of the tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, ruefully, he ran his fingers through Jisung’s hair, rubbing his scalp. “Hey. I’m going to take Mouse outside to pee, you should go to bed and I’ll meet you there after. You’re drooling on my pants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. Am not!” Jisung grouched, half awake and stubborn. He stretched, half sitting up but then collapsing somewhat dramatically against his shoulder. “What happened to the romantic days when you’d carry me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got even taller, that’s what happened!” Chenle chuckled, planting a kiss on Jisung’s forehead before turning off the TV. “Last one to bed is the big spoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nooo</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re such a mean hyung.” Jisung whined, but pressed one chaste kiss to Chenle’s neck before standing to lead the way. “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> little spoon. It’s been that way too long to change it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. That’s why I’m letting you win, dummy.” He’d only wanted to get Jisung moving, and with good reason. As soon as Chenle got into bed and slipped his arms into their familiar position around Jisung’s waist, he was out like a light, and he slept better than he had in years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waking up beside Jisung on Christmas morning was like something out of a cheesy romantic movie— the weather had predicted a snowstorm, which was well underway that morning, and they had made an agreement to put training aside, exchange gifts, and spend the day together. Jisung’s parents were in the studio regardless of the holiday - his father doing office work, his mother working away at a choreography for one of her classes - and Chenle only felt slightly guilty for the sense of relief he felt. The energy was different when they were alone, when they could hug and kiss and joke freely. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We still have to tell them.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The though gave him a vague  sense of anxiety, and he could only imagine how Jisung felt about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After eating breakfast together, they exchanged presents in the morning. Chenle hadn’t had much money set aside, which had made him feel bad, but he was still proud of what he’d managed to pull together: a new sweater (dark blue, Chenle’s favorite color on him) and some chocolates from Jisung’s absolute favorite sweets shop. Jisung thanked him with a long hug and a kiss. “Are you ready for your present now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! I’m curious as to when you went out shopping. You usually don’t hide things very well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung grinned. “Check your email, then, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Email?” Chenle repeated in disbelief. “What, you ordered something online and it hasn’t come yet? You sent me the receipts to prove yourself?” he guessed good-naturedly, nudging Jisung. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound rather like something his boyfriend would have done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just check!” Jisung replied adamantly, even passing Chenle his phone that was sitting on the desk. He was excited, that much was obvious, and Chenle could feel him watching for a reaction as he unlocked his phone and checked for new email.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A forward from Jisung, three minutes earlier— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“IMPORTANT: Your electronic boarding passes”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, said the subject line, just like the email from Korean Air that he had received last week with his tickets home. A jolt went through him, his heart leaped into his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung… where are we going?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Qingdao Airport…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your grandmother lives in Shandong, right? I’m assuming you know how we can get there from Qingdao.” Jisung smiled, face glowing with embarrassment as he quickly added, “My parents gave me some of the money. Originally, I was just gonna send you, because I thought you’d want to see her for Christmas, but… if it’s okay, I’d really like to come along. I want to see this amazing place you’re always talking about. My dad said he would give us some extra money for travel, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Yes, of course, what are you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>asking</span>
  </em>
  <span> for?” Chenle demanded, quickly hiding behind his hands as Jisung’s face blurred before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no! Don’t cry!” Jisung pulled Chenle quickly into him— the height difference that Chenle had once half-resented was now perfect, just the right amount for Chenle to rest his head on Jisung’s shoulder comfortably. He hid his face in his boyfriend’s neck, breathing him in deep, trying to pull himself together enough to even thank him properly. Then Jisung chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t laugh at me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not!” Jisung laughed regardless, pressing a kiss to Chenle’s forehead. “I just want to put you in my pocket. You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stinking </span>
  </em>
  <span>cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle burst into laughter himself, and even his pride wouldn’t let him argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if to welcome them, the countryside where Chenle’s grandmother lived was unusually warm for December, and the sun shined on all four days that they were there. Chenle wanted to show him all the best of his favorite place, and they went on walks through the quaint little town, buying snacks for each other and taking plenty of pictures for Instagram.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle was careful, though, not to be gone for too long; his grandmother was looking older than he remembered, and things like hanging out the laundry and mopping the floor took her twice as long. Soon, she’d probably be on her way to Shanghai to live with his mother, he thought sadly, in that house that felt so stifling and toxic. He didn’t want to think about his grandmother leaving her wonderful old cottage for the city, and so for the moment, he did his best to take care of the house between outings with Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coming in from the backyard with the empty laundry basket under his arm, Chenle didn’t expect to find Jisung standing in the kitchen with his grandmother’s old apron on, the strings doubled up and tied around his thin waist. He grinned at Chenle’s questioning gaze, explaining without having to be asked: “I told your grandmother that I’d cook for her tonight, as thanks for taking care of me! Besides, all her food has been delicious. I thought she might appreciate some good Korean food!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re cooking? That makes me nervous. Should I help you?” It might have sounded harsh, but it was the absolute truth— Jisung was even known to mess up cooking instant noodles in the microwave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have confidence in me? I’m making </span>
  <em>
    <span>kimchi jeon</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jisung retorted, pouting a little and folding his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been worrying yourself since you got here,” his grandmother’s voice broke in as she stepped into the room, sporting an apron herself and giving her hands a quick wash at the sink. “This is your vacation, isn’t it? Sit down and relax. Jisung and I will make dinner. You don’t have to worry about us.” She patted him on the shoulder and then steered him towards the kitchen table; clearly, this was a command, rather than a suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This was my favorite meal growing up! Mom would make it when she and Dad worked late and didn’t have time to cook a full meal— I would sit on the table and watch. So I’ve seen this recipe about a million times.” Jisung did seem more confident than usual as he took on the job of cutting up the kimchi, though his knife skills made Chenle cringe. He distracted himself by translating into Mandarin for his grandmother— conversations between the three of them were still laborious, but they were starting to get the hang of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grandmother, rinsing the rice at the sink, chuckled softly. “Every busy mom has such a recipe, I’m sure of it. I remember your mother calling me when she was flustered and stressed, when you were a child, because your stomach was so sensitive that you couldn’t eat many foods. I taught her, from the phone in this kitchen, how to make tofu and vegetables that you loved.” She turned her back to put the rice on the stove, remarking almost as an afterthought, “She used to worry so much about your well-being. Whether you were big enough for your age, whether you were getting enough nutrients. She worried over every little bump and bruise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle fell silent, feeling a bit choked up— and when Jisung looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to translate for him, the smile slipped off his face. “Love?” he prompted quietly, taking a step away from the counter as if to go console him, before remembering that his hands were still covered in kimchi brine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—” Chenle took a quick deep breath to calm his nerves, and then went on softly in Korean, “She talked about my mom, which is still a little bit hard for me right now. I haven’t felt close to my family in a long time, so it’s hard for me to talk about those times, but… I’ll get there. I’ll work up to telling you everything, Jisung. Okay?” He gave him a smile meant to be reassuring, adding softly, “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quit distracting the chef,” his grandmother’s voice cut through with such perfect timing that Chenle couldn’t help but wonder if she’d heard and understood, after all. “You’ll need to cut up more kimchi than this, won’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she say? Am I doing a good job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurry and finish. I’m going to starve to death,” Chenle replied with a grin, giving Jisung a gentle push back towards his work. “You’re doing great! I have faith in you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Towards the end of Christmas break, Jisung began lamenting that they had “an entire semester” of high school left, like it was so much time to endure. In contrast, Chenle felt like one semester would be over before they knew it, and that didn’t give him much time at all to decide what he was going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All around him, students had been preparing applications to universities, studying for the entrance exams that would determine their futures, but Chenle hadn’t applied anywhere. Jisung had filled out a couple obligatory applications, but his grades weren’t impressive enough for the top schools; his mother was beginning to press him about what might happen if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> make it into an entertainment company, to which Jisung always went quiet until she left him alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clinging together would only protect them for so long; the thought plagued him the most when he lay awake beside Jisung and listened to his breathing in the dark. No matter what path they took, there would be hurdles, and it was hard not to feel boxed in, but they also had no choice but </span>
  <em>
    <span>forward.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want for your birthday?” Chenle held Mouse’s leash in one hand, but he twined the fingers of his other with Jisung’s free hand to combat the brisk February chill. Jisung squeezed his hand gently, unafraid— the shopping district was sparsely populated, with the temperature still so bitter, but Chenle liked to think that they would have kept holding hands, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung, I’m being serious! I don’t have any ideas.” At least, any ideas that he could afford. Truth be told, Chenle had been giving some thought to a part-time job in the afternoons. It would cut into his training time, but— well, maybe that was just how it would have to be, for the moment. But it didn’t help him </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, three days before Jisung’s birthday. He peeked hopefully in the window of each shop that they passed, but nothing was jumping out to his eye. It was hard, knowing that your boyfriend deserved something special but not knowing what fit the bill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me either.” Jisung chuckled. “You can get me a gift if you really want to, but I’d be even happier having a free afternoon with you. We could go to the arcade and you could buy me snacks and win me a stuffed animal! Or we could take the baby to the dog park and have a family picnic!” He finally let go of Chenle’s hand, only to bend over and pick up the baby in question, who had been weaving between their feet. “So, uh, speaking of family? There’s something I need to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, those infamous words, which never failed to make Chenle’s blood pressure rise. “What do you mean?” he inquired, trying to keep a straight face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a talk with my mom last night, after you and Dad had fallen asleep,” Jisung said softly; he wasn’t meeting Chenle’s eyes while they walked, but there was a particular exuberance in Jisung’s words that made his heart pound in anticipation for good news. “I really meant to tell you first, hyung; I mean, I meant to talk it over with you before I told them anything, just in case. But I don’t know what happened— it was just weighing on me all of a sudden to be keeping such a big secret, so I broke down and told my mom about us. I didn’t have any idea how she would react, but she was actually, genuinely </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The good news was enough to knock the tension out of Chenle’s shoulders, and he grinned, daring to slip an arm innocuously around Jisung’s waist. “That’s— that’s great! I’m not upset, Jisung… In fact, I think you’re incredibly brave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So she wants us both home for dinner. She said she’s going to make something special to celebrate our relationship— even though I told her it’s not even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>new</span>
  </em>
  <span> relationship.” Jisung made a face, sticking out his tongue and crinkling his nose. “I’ll let her fawn over us, though. It’s better than the alternative. Hyung, I’m so glad she already loves you! It makes me feel like the pieces of my life are falling into place. Even though they’re sort of weird pieces, they’re all going to fit together in the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course they will! You work so hard,” Chenle insisted, though his mind was reeling back to a few sentences ago. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s better than the alternative.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The statement, simple and innocuous though it was, sent a sudden jolt of loneliness ripping through him. It had been months since Chenle’s mother had reminded him that he had no future with Jisung, and he had kept it to himself, stewing in anger and resentment with no outlet. Now, it was impossible to swallow, and Chenle stumbled over his words as he blurted it out: “My mom guessed about what was going on between us. She wasn’t happy, she was— she didn’t seem to feel any sort of way at all about it, but she told me it was going to be impossible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If this rattled Jisung or brought his mood down, he did an admirable job of hiding it. “Doesn’t sound like your mom has very much faith in me,” Jisung replied easily, shrugging. “But that’s okay! My mom has enough faith for </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> moms. She’s going to start referring to you as her son, now, just so you know.” Jisung snuck a peck on Chenle’s cheek, and went on casually, as though he weren’t saying the most perfect magic words to put Chenle’s heart at ease: “You won’t ever be alone. I’ll make sure of it. And if I can’t, then she sure as hell will. I’m pretty sure she’s been waiting for me to bring a boyfriend home for </span>
  <em>
    <span>awhile</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You know, she wasn’t even surprised about me being gay? She told me she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>always had a feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What in the world does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle laughed, giving Jisung a squeeze. Anyone in the world could have seen them, every paparazzi in Korea could have documented them and ruined any chance of an idol career for them both, and Chenle wouldn’t have cared, might have even laughed in their faces and told them to do their worst. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so light, so powerful and invincible; for the moment, he was high on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The organized chaos that came in an audition waiting room still invigorated Chenle somehow. Being surrounded by people who shared his dream, who wanted the idol life as much as (or worse than) him, feeling the tension crackle around him in a thousand different separate rehearsals at once— it made him feel very important and very small, all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it bad that I’m not nervous anymore?” Jisung questioned, not looking up from his phone. The first time they’d been in the JYP waiting room together, it had been nothing but nerves, and they’d amused themselves with the idea of an idol or celebrity arriving at the building and getting a glimpse of the sea of young hopefuls getting ready to overthrow them. Raw talent, raw passion, the new generation of idols was going to have it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would that be bad? You’re an old seasoned pro,” Chenle shot back. Truthfully, he was more on-edge than usual, and he’d been practicing the runs in his audition song under his breath since the day before. It was March, and Chenle was way past the point of thinking about college options, but he knew that he needed to measure his choices carefully for a post-high-school world. Whether or not he got a callback from JYP, this was going to be his last audition for awhile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, exactly, I’m not supposed to be an old seasoned </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> at my age,” Jisung shot back, folding his arms and leaning nonchalantly back against the wall. “They didn’t want us the first hundred times, what makes you think they’ll want us now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we never stop getting better! Eventually, we’re going to surpass everyone here, we just need to hope it happens before old age sets in and we can’t dance without dislocating body parts.” He’d been having the same misgivings, honestly, but he pasted on a smile anyway and nudged Jisung, teasing, “You can’t give up on me now, Park Jisung. I’m not gonna be a part of any K-pop group that doesn’t have you as the maknae.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if they throw some thirteen-year-old dance prodigy in the group to show me up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still gonna be the maknae, at least in spirit. At least in </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> eyes,” Chenle teased, grinning. (Even Jeno and Renjun were disgusted by their constant, aggressive flirting, and they’d told them so. Jisung’s response? “The stupider my pick-up lines, the cuter his reactions.”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s hand brushed up against Chenle’s experimentally, and then decided to swallow it up, long fingers folding perfectly around it. Nobody spared them a look, and Chenle smiled. “Don’t worry. JiChen will live on, one way or another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“JiChen?” Chenle nearly choked at the sound of it, before bursting into laughter. “What is that? That sounds disgusting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>ChenSung.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>common</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We need a ship name that’s going to embed itself into the minds of our fans.” Jisung chuckled, letting his chin rest just for a second on Chenle’s shoulder; the close proximity did its job of making Chenle flustered, even when it didn’t last long. “And our fans will be fed </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> well, because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> won’t be able to keep my eyes off of you.” He gave the compliment a second to hang in the air between them, making Chenle’s heart positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>ache</span>
  </em>
  <span> with its sweetness, but then he went on, “We’ll compromise. ChenJi. Your name can come first, but in return, you have to let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> be the cute one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, we’ll just have to wait and see on that,” Chenle shot back light-heartedly, but he let go of Jisung’s hand self-consciously, and he couldn’t bring himself to practice anymore before his audition, either. He liked when Jisung’s glances were just for him, shameless and genuine, but he supposed that an idol never </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> owned anything except the money they made. Chenle had never thought of fame this way before, and suddenly, it hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung went silent, like he could feel the pain radiating, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d the audition go today?” Jiwon asked over dinner, the first that it had been brought up by anyone since they returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was fine,” Jisung said simply, taking a large bite of food to excuse himself from answering any further questions for a few seconds. Normally, Jisung was easy, open and forthcoming with his feelings - if he was bothered, he never had trouble letting Chenle know - but he’d come out of the audition room with a strange, quiet air about him. Chenle had only asked once, and Jisung gave the same answer: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fine almost never meant fine, of course, and Chenle could tell that his suspicions were right by the way that Jisung quickly changed the subject after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Chenle aren’t having a disagreement, are you?” Sooyoung knit her eyebrows in concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No way.” Jisung cracked a smile, the idea was so preposterous. “Really, it was fine, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine. I’m just tired. I woke up really early today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, that night, neither of them could sleep. Jisung was restless beside Chenle, seemingly unable to get comfortable, but Chenle wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. He was thinking about how hard it seemed to date Jisung at first, how daunting it was to keep such a powerful thing under wraps. Could they do that on a larger scale? Nationwide? International?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chenle, are you awake?” Jisung whispered into the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Can’t sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Jisung sighed, rolling to face Chenle and studying his face for a moment in the dark. “I think… it’ll be hard if one of us makes it and one of us doesn’t, don’t you? When you got that letter from RBW— I mean, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy for you, hyung, but… I was scared, thinking about things changing. Thinking about not having time for each other anymore. I mean, if we went to university together, even if we never saw each other during the day, we would still come back to the same bed at night, wouldn’t we…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleeping beside his boyfriend made Chenle’s chest feel tight with anxiety. “Of course. Jisung— I’ve been thinking about this a lot, too. I really don’t want us to have to…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Break up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It felt like a dirty word. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “But even if we </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> make it, even if we both make it into the same </span>
  <em>
    <span>group</span>
  </em>
  <span>, by some miracle… do you really think we could hide this from everyone? Our fans, our staff, our members? I didn’t want to think about it at first, I wanted to believe that it would just work itself out, but… we might have to talk about it soon, Jisung.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s talk about it, because I can’t sleep while I’m worrying about what’s going to happen.” His fingertip traced Chenle’s jaw tentatively; Chenle secretly loved this, the moments when Jisung touched him like he was made of glass. Feeling so cherished, even for just a moment, was still a strange and foreign thing. “The way I see it,” Jisung went on, straight to the point as always, “We each need to decide what we want to do independently. Because you’ve worked hard, hyung… I won’t take offense if you want to pursue your dream on your own. I won’t hold it against you. You would do the same for me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle hated this conversation. Talking about breaking up? It had been nearly a year, their dating anniversary was approaching. Trying to picture themselves going back to a platonic friendship was like poking at a fresh wound and causing needless pain. But there was only one answer: </span>
  <em>
    <span>apart or together, I think I’d still love you. I think we’d still stay best friends.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chenle pressed himself closer to Jisung, nuzzling into his shoulder to reassure them both. “Of course I would. I want you happy,” Chenle whispered quietly. “Don’t give up your dream for my sake, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t try to make the decision for me. You say that like you’ve already decided to break up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t!” Chenle replied instantaneously, feeling a wash of dread over him. “Jisung, I— I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to break up with you. I don’t need to even think about it. If you want to do this, then I want to do this with you. But I also know how much performing means to you, and… I would be a selfish person if I took that away from you. If you can only pick one thing, I want you to pick the one that’s going to bring you the most happiness. You deserve to be happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s grip tightened on him, and for a long time, they lay there in silence. No words, no kisses; just his warmth, his scent, the press of his cheek against Chenle’s hair. Amidst all the turmoil, Chenle was humbled by this gem of a moment, and he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing it could just last forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think my chances of getting into a company are one in a thousand,” Jisung whispered at last. “And then, I give up a couple years of my life, training full-time— for a one-in-ten-thousand chance at debuting. And then there’s the chance that I’ll flop, no one will care, I’ll spend six years in the company dungeon. Maybe I won’t like the music I have to make. Maybe I won’t be able to work up to my full potential. I feel like there are a lot of things that are out of my control… a lot of potential bad endings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you can say that about everything. Maybe we won’t last. You don’t know that.” Even coming out of Chenle’s mouth, it sounded like a lie, but he couldn’t keep from playing devil’s advocate, just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I feel a hell of a lot more sure with you, Chenle hyung.” Jisung snorted quietly in amusement, adding, “When I first met you, or maybe even when I first kissed you a year ago, I would have picked music without question. But now? I don’t want to cut us short, not for anything. But I don’t think that’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing. I don’t feel like I’m giving up. My dream has just… changed, that's all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle’s heart throbbed in his chest, and he could feel Jisung’s racing against him, too. It all felt surreal, that maybe their dream was changing into something else entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have so much faith in us. I think that’s beautiful.” For the first time all evening, Chenle felt something like relaxation sweep over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, because I think we might be soulmates,” Jisung replied simply. It was so corny that Chenle thought he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be joking, and he waited a moment for some kind of sarcastic add-on, but when he turned his head to look Jisung in the eyes, he only went on, “Isn’t it cool to think about? We were each other’s first kiss. Maybe we both got it right on the very first try. What are the chances of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> What are the chances that, out of all the students from Shanghai coming to study in Seoul that year, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were paired up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Probably less than the chances of me debuting in a Big Three company.” Jisung looked thoroughly pleased with his conclusion, and kissed Chenle on the nose. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Soulmates.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, Chenle wasn’t the type to believe in soulmates, and he wasn’t the type to blindly believe that a high school romance would last into old age. But Jisung’s arms felt so strong around him, so earnestly protective, that Chenle couldn’t help but believe because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> believed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who knows, maybe we’ll be like this forever, too in love to let go of each other.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If there was a chance, Chenle would take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung was one of the cutest people that Chenle knew, and he was privileged to some of his very cutest moments: waking up disoriented with his hair like a dandelion puff, talking to Mouse in high-pitched baby talk that could be heard from every corner of the apartment, stressing over his hair and discreetly dabbing BB cream on his face before an audition. But probably the cutest Jisung in existence was </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> one, Chenle thought, the one clutching his pink Twice light stick and wearing his favorite jacket with Momo’s name on the back, vibrating with unspent energy in the endless concert line. Jisung was a completely unashamed fan— and anyway, there were people decked out with merch and signage everywhere Chenle looked, so why should he feel self-conscious? They hadn’t been waiting too long (Sooyoung thought it was silly to spend all day loitering around the venue, and she was probably right), but it was hard not to feel antsy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wait until I get a job next year and have unlimited funds,” Jisung was saying, reaching back to clutch Chenle’s hand in excitement. “This will be our first of many concerts. If I can’t be a trainee, I’m at least going to be a dedicated fan.” He chuckled, reaching up to tuck some of Chenle’s bangs under his beanie, black and embellished with a pink Twice logo. (Jisung’s, of course.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet. Will you take me to see my NCT boyfriends when they have their concert this fall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if there’s any chance of Taeyong stealing you away from me. No fansigns, no hi-touches, nothing where you’re gazing into each other’s eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, relationships are built on trust!” Chenle tried to pout but had to smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you, it’s him I don’t trust. You’re so handsome, he’ll sweep you away from me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>embarrassing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” The female voice that interjected gave Chenle a sharp stab of anxiety, and he turned alongside Jisung to look at the girls standing behind them in line. They looked to be around the same age, or maybe slightly younger; Chenle was trying to think about whether or not he recognized them from school, but with them wearing makeup and decked out in concert clothes, it was hard to say. The girl closest to him blushed faintly, asking, “I’m not trying to be rude. But are you...together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle glanced to Jisung for guidance, not sure what to say, but Jisung’s hand grasped his own just as quickly. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” Jisung answered simply. His voice was even and friendly, not defensive as Chenle knew he might have been— he couldn’t keep from smiling at the intense surge of affection that bloomed in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seemed that way. You look cute together!” The girl grinned, and the compliment was so genuine that Chenle was taken completely aback. As if she could sense this from him, she met Chenle’s eyes shyly, adding, “I like your outfits, too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, thank you! I think we’re cute together, myself,” Jisung smirked; no room for modesty, it seemed, when the compliment had to do with Chenle. “And thank you. This is all my stuff, actually, hyung is just being dragged along for the ride…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was bizarre; maybe as idols, their relationship would have been scandalous enough to send their careers tumbling, and maybe to his family he’d already thrown everything away, but here, Jisung held his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and looked at him like he was proud to be together. He’d never imagined anything like this, not for himself, but suddenly he couldn’t imagine letting go of Jisung’s hand for anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The concert was, predictably, amazing. Chenle couldn’t even tease Jisung for going crazy in the crowd, because the energy surrounding them practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>demanded</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. The stage was perfect, the crowd was hysterical, and when Twice themselves finally emerged in a fanfare of music and lights, Chenle might have even screamed louder than his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hi-touch was, predictably, </span>
  <em>
    <span>surreal.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thirty seconds, over in the blink of an eye, and yet moving in a way that Chenle didn’t quite expect. Even as a casual fan, he was pretty sure his mind was reduced to mush from the moment that Sana met his eyes and smiled his way. He left the venue uplifted, though it was chilly outside and drizzling rain; it was like the concert experience had invigorated him, left his spirit somehow healthier and stronger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I seriously just touched all of their hands! You know, I always laugh at those crazy fangirls who will fight over a discarded water bottle that had their bias’ mouth on it, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind</span>
  </em>
  <span> of understand the idea. Or at least, I’m going to be really sad when I have to wash my hands next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I can kind of appreciate that, too.” Chenle smiled, looking down at his hand. It didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> any different, but the moment had made him </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> different, for sure. “This was my first </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> concert, and I didn’t think concerts were that big of a deal before, but I’m kind of… shaken.” He jammed his hands in his pockets, leading the way in the direction of the bus stop, but then quickly amending himself: “I have too much energy! Do you feel restless, too? Why don’t we go get some ice cream before we head home? Your mom won’t mind, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll text her. Sugar is just what we need, right? That way we can get home and bounce off the walls all night and drive my parents crazy,” Jisung teased with a soft chuckle. A moment later, he grabbed onto Chenle’s arm, sidling up to him as they walked. “Hyung, have I ever thanked you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what? You’re the one who payed for the concert tickets!” Chenle smiled. “What’s up? Getting sentimental on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re the one who came with me and cheered with me. You’re the one who waited in line with me all that time,” Jisung responded softly. There was a gravity to his voice that was unlike him, and Chenle slowed his steps a bit, looking to Jisung as they walked. “You put up with my stubbornness, and my immaturity, and the fact that I get hyper-focused on myself and tune the rest of the world out. Every time you leave and go back to Shanghai, hyung, you make me remember again how special it is to have someone who loves every little thing about you.” While the smile was forming on Chenle’s face, so wide that it made his cheeks ache with the force of it, Jisung went on self-consciously: “When I first came out to my mom, she asked me if I was really, truly sure that I wanted this. She warned me that it was going to make things difficult, being in a relationship with a man, and that I’d have to be ready to defend myself to other people. But then… when that girl in line told us that we were a cute couple, and you weren’t ashamed to keep holding my hand? I felt like I was on top of the world. So… thank you for going up against all this with me. Thank you for wanting to be with me, even though it’s hard and I suck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung—” At his self-deprecation, Chenle tried to jump in and correct him automatically, but he had to stop and give himself a moment to process it all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes I forget that he apparently likes me being with him, that this isn’t all my selfish wish fulfillment. It’s been a year, and for some reason, he still loves me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought of it made Chenle delirious with happiness, and he shook his head. “You don’t have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank</span>
  </em>
  <span> me for being with you, you fool.” Outside of the ice cream shop, lit by the comfortable glow of the front windows, Chenle popped up onto his toes and dared for a quick peck on the lips. It felt simple, but it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>powerful.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Didn’t you know? There’s nowhere else I want to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As fate would have it, on the second-to-last day of their high school classes, Jisung and Chenle </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> got a callback on their final JYP auditions— Jisung’s parents seemed more excited by the news than either of the boys actually were, and it was strange to stand there and accept their congratulations when Chenle had no intentions of taking the next step. Jisung didn’t react much, nor did he protest when Sooyoung suggested taking the two of them to dinner to celebrate, and when they ducked into the bedroom to change out of their school uniforms, Chenle couldn’t keep himself from questioning softly, “You’re going to turn them down, aren’t you? Is that still the plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I achieved my goal! We made it! I think that’s worth something,” Jisung replied firmly, rifling through his closet for something nice to wear. “I’ll explain it to them. They’ll understand. My mom would probably prefer that I go to university, anyway, so she doesn’t have to worry about my wellbeing every second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“University? I thought you hated school,” Chenle retorted. “Would you really go back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I can study music, I don’t mind studying,” Jisung responded with a shrug. “I could be a dance teacher, don’t you think? You got pretty good with my help! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He grinned suddenly. “I could even be a primary school music teacher. There are lots of jobs I would be suited to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span> with kids, Jisung.” The notion lifted Chenle’s heart in his chest. Maybe the future wasn’t a complete mystery, after all. “I think you can do anything you put your mind to! You have more determination than anyone I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Everything I want, I get, one way or another,” Jisung boasted teasingly, standing up straighter as he did up the last few buttons on his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair at the mirror. “JYP training offer. Cute boyfriend. And in a few days, a high school diploma!” Jisung turned at last, ready to go, and quickly blinked in bewilderment. “Oh… you changed your clothes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle was nearly surprised by the statement himself, even as he tossed his uniform into the clothes hamper— but at some point, without even thinking about ducking into the bathroom, Chenle had changed into a t-shirt and shorts. “Oh. Yeah. I guess so,” he murmured with a small smile, leaning against his desk and self-consciously examining his sock feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle could see Jisung’s own feet approaching, and the next thing he knew, an arm wrapped gently around his shoulders and a kiss was pressed lovingly to his forehead. “See? This is exactly what I was saying. We don’t need JYP Entertainment to be successful people,” he said simply, half-joking despite his words being completely true. Chenle said nothing, only hugging Jisung as close as he could and holding him, chests flush and heartbeats synchronized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Graduating felt like a weird dream. Since he had turned down his offer from JYP, it was mind-boggling to even picture what he would do with his days if not go to school— he was lucky that Sooyoung had at least a temporary solution for him. Their dance studio had partnered with an investor to expand, and they would begin offering piano and vocal coaching. Chenle, conveniently, could teach both, and it would give him a means to put away money. He had a feeling that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> go to university, sometime in the future. Jisung, on the other hand, was preparing for his first semester of university, as an education major.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d do well, no doubt. When Jisung was determined, he made things happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night of their graduation, Jisung’s parents took them out for a celebratory dinner, and once they were home, allowed each of them a single shot of soju to toast to their graduation. Chenle didn’t feel much different at all (other than having to brush his teeth to get the taste of the shit out of his mouth), but Jisung’s cheeks flushed and he became even chattier than usual. (“Hyung, we’re adults now! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Adults!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Did you even think about that? Soon we can get a house together! It’ll be just like we’re married!”) They fell into bed that night without even changing clothes, on top of the blankets, Jisung’s head on Chenle’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waking up the next morning and not having to get ready for school or worry about studying later was a luxury, and Chenle took full advantage— laying beside Jisung and watching the morning sun climb the wall, basking in the lovely quiet. When Jisung stirred, it was nearly 10, and it was largely because Chenle could no longer keep Mouse from licking his face, anxious for breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmph… I feel like I could sleep for ten more hours,” Jisung mumbled, hiding his face against the fabric of Chenle’s shirt to shield himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because you’re hungover!” Chenle teased lightly, kissing the top of Jisung’s head. “Let’s have coffee and breakfast, you’ll feel better after. I’m going to take Mouse outside while you sort yourself out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle loved summer mornings— chilly enough for a jacket, yet optimistically sunny. He took Mouse once around the block so the little dog could do his business and stretch his legs, but he himself was feeling deeply invigorated by the time he climbed the apartment stairs. Opening the door to see Jisung prepping two cups of coffee (one black, one blonde and teeth-rottingly sweet) made his heartbeat pick up. Jisung smiled when he saw them, opening up his arms for Chenle to walk into.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think there’s anything I’d rather come home to.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chenle snuggled against Jisung’s shoulder, closing his eyes and drinking in another moment he couldn’t bear to forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night was fun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you seemed like you were having a blast.” Chenle broke away from Jisung to pick up his mug, leaning back against the counter as he sipped it. “You were really funny! You told me you were going to buy me a house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughed along with Chenle, but then immediately countered: “Is it really that funny? I could buy you a house. I mean, obviously, we’ll probably have to rent a place first and work our way up.” Chenle was preparing a witty retort in his head, but then Jisung continued on as casually as if he were discussing the weather: “There’s something I need to buy before I start saving for a house, though. I want to get you a ring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A… </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Chenle was glad that he didn’t have a mouthful of coffee, because he would have certainly choked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forgot the most important part of what I said to you last night,” Jisung replied, looking out the window and shyly avoiding Chenle’s eyes. “I want a house together because that’s the closest we can get to becoming a married couple right now. I’ve been thinking about it lately— just because same-sex marriage isn't legal in South Korea, doesn’t mean that I can’t treat you like we’re married. We can even have a little ceremony and invite our friends. And then someday, when it’s legal, we’ll get married all over again and make it official.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jisung said it, suddenly, Chenle could see it. Waking up together every morning, drinking coffee in their bathrobes, visiting each other at work, buying each other romantic little gifts “just because”. Bickering over nothing and laughing at everything and sleeping fabulously every night, tangled up in each other. Chenle didn’t need validation from anyone else, as long as he could have that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chenle kissed him without thought, driven by impulse, and left his forehead resting against Jisung’s when their lips parted. “The more times I get to marry you, the better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung grinned, cupping Chenle’s face gently in his hands and running his thumbs lovingly over his cheeks. “You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>embarrassing!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m rubbing off on you, aren’t I? I love you so much, I can’t even stand it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as much as I love you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not argue with me, Zhong Chenle. I’m willing to die on this hill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. You can love me more. Can’t argue with that.” Chenle conceded cockily, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s waist and holding him close. Every moment between them hit like a love song, one that Chenle wouldn’t tire of hearing again and again.</span>
</p>
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